25 Days of Fic
by corneroffandom
Summary: Christmas stories 1: ZigZack 2: Delcardo 3: TJP/Neville 4: DIY 5: Dream/Aleister 6: Slarrett 7: Carmella 8: DJ Z/Robbie E 9: Cinco 10: Bennett/Taven 11: Alpha 12: Ariya/Gulak 13: Ambrollins 14: Mizorrison 15: ECSpud 16: Dunne & Ricochet 17: McStyles 18: Dalton/Boys 19: Okada & Shin 20: Rusev Day 21: Kendrick/Gallagher 22: Mickie/Alexa 23: Kaz & Daniels 24: Cassamore 25: Lana/Tamina
1. Chapter 1

It happens more often than not that, if Zack's not booked in a match for Main Event, he stays at home in Florida and works on editing his and Hawkins' podcast. In the past, this may have bothered him, but he seems to take it more in stride now, Dolph unsure how to feel about that. But he finds himself on the road immediately after Thanksgiving, healed from a thankfully minor foot injury, and he feels strange about it, missing Zack. He thinks it must be because it's close to the holidays and he gets an actual taste of winter weather- snow and cold temperatures, and...

He sighs, fixing his messy hair under his winter hat, and continues on his way, hands deep in his pockets as he walks through the cold, brittle wind. "Where is it?" he mumbles, staring at his phone. "It has to be..." He looks up and blinks hard, spotting the sign hidden under some snow. "There it is!" His steps are a bit more cheerful as he pushes the door open and enters the store, suddenly overwhelmed by all of the options sprawled out before him. _"Wow..._ "

He checks the time on his phone and laughs. "Good thing I have a lot of time until my flight." He turns and nods at the woman who comes bustling out from the back, looking a little frazzled.

"I'm sorry!" she exclaims. "The bell on the door is broken, I didn't know someone came in-" She bustles behind the counter and organizes things quickly before turning back to him. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"Actually, there is," Dolph says with a smirk, turning hungry eyes to the rows of candy sprawled out before him on the wall. "Y'see, I've got a special someone back home and we were supposed to come here for work, but the company decided they only needed me this week, so he's missing out on all of this." He watches, glad when she doesn't even blink at the not-so-subtle _"he"_ before continuing on, much more comfortable now. "So can you help me find a few things he wanted?"

"Of course," she says, walking quickly around the counter and examining the shelves with him. "What did you have in mind?"

-x

It's early morning when Dolph's flight lands safely in Orlando, and he's careful to be quiet as he sneaks into the house, gently toeing Kylo away as he pushes the door shut behind him. "Shhhh," he tells the cat, tugging something out of a paper sack and watching as he lazily lopes after the mouse toy, Draco looking on disinterestedly from a box he's sprawled across. "Lazy thing," Dolph teases, poking the cat and rolling his eyes as Draco flashes his fangs at him, not bothering to move beyond that. "Your father spoils you both too much," he says, before making his way down the hall to where Zack is still asleep.

He toes his shoes off and slips into bed next to him, wrapping his arms around Zack and listening as he stirs and groans, eyelashes fluttering against Dolph's jaw. "Morning, kid," he says quietly.

"Morning, bro," Zack mumbles back. "Hey, you're home early."

"Not really, I booked the earliest flight I could." He rubs circles in Zack's lower back and smiles as he sighs into his shoulder. "I brought you something."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. It's a little early in the day for such things, but I won't tell on you if you cheat a little on your diet." Zack makes a face, blinking up at him sleepily, and Dolph laughs, pressing a kiss to his lips before reaching over to snag a bag from where he'd left it next to the bed.

Zack sits up, staring at the bag. "You didn't," he says in shock.

"Oh, I did. Open it," Dolph grins, watching his face as he examines the logo of the specialized candy store they had wanted to go to together.

"Aw, bro," he says, pulling the straps apart and reaching in, pulling out handfuls of a variety of candies- candy cane flavored salt water taffy, spice drops, cinnamon imperials, gummy Christmas trees and snowmen, and coal candy. "Oh man, bro. This is... everything I planned on getting. How'd you know?"

Dolph laughs, leaning against Zack's arm and watching his face. "It was all you talked about for weeks, kid. You were so excited, it didn't seem fair that you didn't get to go, so it was up to me to make things right, huh?" He sits up and cups Zack's face, kissing him slowly. "I love you, kid. Merry Christmas."

Zack smiles, eyes gleaming as he kisses Dolph back. "Love you too, bro." Turning to look at the massive pile of candies, he shrugs. "You _are_ going to help me eat all of this, aren't you?"

Dolph huffs, rolling his eyes. "I guess if I have to, kid," he says with a laugh, fingers already sneaking forwards the taffy.


	2. Chapter 2

Between the two of them living in Mexico, California, Florida, and now Texas the majority of their lives, the rare time Alberto and Ricardo have experienced a proper white Christmas is when on the road for wrestling events. They'd both experienced one or two while touring with WWE, but that's long in the past now with both of them living in warmer climates and usually staying in Texas or Mexico for work. Which Ricardo is ok with for the most part, his arthritis acting up enough as it is, but there is something romantic and soothing about snowfall sometimes. So when they get a few days free that actually match up for the first time in a long time, and Alberto suggests they go on a mini-vacation to a cabin he owns up in the mountains during the peak of skiing season, Ricardo agrees.

Not that he feels up to skiing or many of the other activities popular at this time of year, but once they arrive, Alberto seems content to sit by the window and hold him, watching snow fall lazily outside of the cabin, coating everything in fresh white powder. "Lo siento," Ricardo says at one point, looking up at him.

"Whatever for?" he asks, hand sprawling lazily over Ricardo's chest as he rests his chin against Ricardo's shoulder and peers at him, eyes dark with curiosity and worry.

"That I'm no fun right now," he sighs. "Between my knee, ankle, and hand-"

"No, no," Alberto says, shifting Ricardo slightly to cup his jaw and look him in the eye, sincerity and tenderness on his face. "You've nothing to apologize for, mi valiente. I'm just glad we're up here at all. I'm over the whole skiing thing myself, I just wanted to enjoy watching the snow with you. We don't really _have_ to do anything in it, I don't get to see it often so this is perfect for me."

Ricardo still looks uncertain. "If you're sure..."

"I most definitely am," he says with one of his bright grins that always makes Ricardo feel pleasantly warm, his heart skipping a beat as it reminds him just how much he loves this man even after all of these years. "Between always living in warmer places, and being too busy to appreciate it whenever we _are_ in colder states, this is all I could've asked for this winter." He smiles at Ricardo, kissing his nose, and they both look up as Sofia joins them, handing over steaming mugs of hot cocoa, marshmellows slowly melting into the drink. "Gracias."

"Muchas gracias," Ricardo echoes, sipping from his happily.

Sofia smiles at them, settling down across from them to watch as well. "It is beautiful, especially since I don't have to go _out_ in it," she says, and Alberto chuckles at her.

"My thoughts exactly, Sofia," he says happily, taking another long sip of his drink and holding Ricardo close with his free hand, everything feeling pretty perfect all around right now.


	3. Chapter 3

TJ isn't in the best of moods. He's tired, and Maria using their business arrangement to force him to remain teaming up with Michael against Lucha House Party is grating at him the more he thinks about it. He just wants another chance at the Cruiserweight title, but there's always so many distractions and Drake Maverick working against him... He sighs as he drives home, relieved that the shows this week were in California so he wasn't too far away.

It's quiet inside even though Neville's home for now, spending some time preparing in TJ's home gym before his first title opportunity since making his return to wrestling. TJ knows his jetlag has been a problem, going back and forth from California to Japan for Dragon Gate, so he doesn't hold it against him as he fumbles around for the light switch after unlocking the front door and slipping inside, trying to be quiet. He's mentally listing his plans for the rest of the night- feeding the pigs, showering and changing his clothes, and then passing out in bed next to Neville and staying there until one of them need to catch a flight or something...

But then there's a loud click and TJ freezes as the entire room lights up- low lamp light and Christmas lights flickering from the tree in the corner, and over the fireplace, and across the wide window next to the door. "Whoa," he breathes, turning to look and finding Neville leaning against the living room doorway, a smirk on his face. "What did you do?"

Neville eases back and walks forward, greeting TJ with a kiss. "I decorated," he says.

"I see that," TJ swallows. "You don't even like Christmas."

Neville shrugs. "I hated everything for the better part of the last year, but you were patient with me and helped keep me together through it all. So it felt only fair that I do something nice for you." He brushes a thumb over TJ's cheek. "I saw you on 205 Live tonight, you didn't look too thrilled so I figured it was my turn."

TJ leans into his touch and exhales slowly. "I already hate partnering with Kanellis," he mumbles.

Neville hums. "Well, I should hope so. We know how it went the _last_ time you got into a business relationship with someone." TJ blinks at him and Neville chuckles, an almost dangerous look on his face. "You ended up falling in love with him and moving in with him."

"Oh," TJ chuckles softly. "Right, that. Well, I'm pretty sure you don't have to worry about that. He's not my type, and the last thing I really need is Taven to come after me on top of everything else." He searches Neville's thunderous face and laughs with a tinge of nervousness. "Or you, of course." Neville grunts and TJ leans in, kissing him softly. "I'd never do that to you."

"I know," Neville mumbles, easing his hand down to squeeze TJ's fingers. "There's one thing you've yet to see in all that I've been up to while you were gone."

"Oh?" TJ asks, raising an eyebrow as he shuts the door behind him, pausing only long enough to lock it, before following Neville into the entertainment room, where the pig's playpens are at. He stands there and gapes, blinking in disbelief. "You..."

Neville smirks and lets Cupcake and Pugsley out, both of them running around, only slowing down and relaxing when TJ kneels down and scoops them against his side, gaping up at Neville. "You dressed my pigs up like Santa and an elf!" he exclaims, laughing as he smooths out the red and green felt outfits over their backs. "Holy crap. How did you manage that?"

"Very patiently," Neville mumbles, sitting down across from them and sighing when Pugsley eagerly escapes TJ's grip and nuzzles up onto his lap. "Why do I always attract the bratty ones?" he asks teasingly, chuffing Pugsley under the chin before shifting his outfit so it's fitting properly.

"I resemble that remark," TJ says, grinning at Neville, who responds by rolling his eyes at him. "Thank you for all of this, Nev. Really. Having to decorate everything was just... something I couldn't find the energy for, so it was nice to come back to find it done. And these guys," he says with another laugh, gently poking Cupcake's snout. "You're the best."

"I know," Neville says smugly, leaning in to meet TJ half-way for another kiss. "Merry Christmas, Teddy."

"Merry Christmas," he echoes back, eyes gleaming in the glow of the lights from the other room as they continue kissing, the pigs quiet and content between them.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Vague spoilers from the latest NXT tapings

Tommaso is very careful. He'd been damaged physically and emotionally too much to risk himself any further, so after returning from the three surgeries he'd had to endure the year before, he dedicates all of his energy and willpower to himself, to his title. The crowd doesn't matter, Candice doesn't matter. _Johnny_ most definitely doesn't matter. Let them fall further into the trap of being obsessed with what the crowd thinks, and being good people, while Ciampa shakes it all off and soars, too determined to succeed to let himself fail. So Johnny falls, and Aleister Black fails, and Ciampa finds himself with his new love- the NXT title.

Something that the crowd can't defile or turn against him, the _one_ part of his life that won't expect more than he can give, its cool plates and smooth leather comforting against his face as he kisses it every time he has to let go of it even for a few moments, quietly thanking the universe for rewarding his struggle, his pain.

But things shift. Johnny changes, Johnny _sees_. It's interesting, Tommaso thinks, that Velveteen Dream was the catalyst in opening Johnny's eyes, debuting the _Johnny Failure_ moniker during their match. Something Ciampa had almost found funny with his altering Johnny's shirt and wearing the armband and doing everything he could to taunt Johnny... until the crowd bought into it, so swayed by Dream's natural charisma and charm that they begin chanting it as well. Ciampa thinks he knows who exactly Aleister's attacker is, understanding the slippery slope that Johnny is currently on better than anyone, and witnessing the subtle changes in him from afar. While Ciampa is succeeding more than he ever thought possible, Johnny is sinking in quick sand of his own making.

Meanwhile, Dream seems almost obsessed since defeating EC3, chasing after Ciampa and raising red flags that _he_ was Aleister's attacker, as if Ciampa is the only one willing to see the truth that should be clear as day for most of them. Nikki Cross knows, Ciampa assumes as she grows more manic about the secret that he has guessed correctly as well, her dark eyes fixed on him as if she wants to confess all to him, but stops just short of doing so. Everyone else is pointing fingers, whispering, gossiping. Candice looks exhausted and frustrated whenever he sees her backstage, and then Aleister Black returns, full of rage, and Nikki tells him.

Ciampa is standing off to the side and still has to back up a step as Aleister storms through the halls, searching- searching. It's not enough as Aleister grabs him by his jacket, growling at him. Out of the corner of his eye, Ciampa spots Dream watching on, the look on his face grim and satisfied and Ciampa wants to yell "It wasn't me!" and have everyone _believe_ him, because he may be a bastard willing to hurt anyone in his way, but he's not a _liar,_ dammit. If he'd attacked Black, he would've owned up to it long, long ago.

"Where is Gargano?" Aleister snarls into his face and Ciampa notices as Dream's certainty falters, his jaw dropping. "Where is the bastard!?" He's shaking Tommaso now, his skull rattling against the wall behind him.

"If you haven't noticed," Ciampa says, voice steel and eyes dangerously hard, "we're not exactly _friendly_ right now." He drops his hand down with as much force as he can muster against Aleister's forearm, gritting his teeth when even this doesn't work at freeing him. "I suggest you let me go right the hell now. Maybe check with his little wifey if you want a real answer."

Aleister snarls and drops Ciampa before turning sharply on his heel, brushing past Dream and leaving as quickly as he'd arrived. Dream stares at Ciampa for a brief moment before turning on his heel and walking in the direction Aleister disappeared. "Freaking ridiculous," Ciampa mumbles, dusting himself off and checking on the title belt that had gone forgotten that entire interaction. He sighs and turns to leave himself, just to stop short at the exit to look left to right, feeling as though he's being watched. He squares his jaw, adjusts the title belt against his shoulder, and turns away from the parking lot, unsurprised when he turns a corner and finds Johnny standing there, hands buried in his jacket pockets.

Tommaso watches him, expecting an attack, but Johnny just stares back at him, gaze only flickering down to the title a time or two. "Aleister knows it was you," he says, not even sure why he's warning Johnny, why any of this is happening.

"I figured Nikki would tell him," he says, nonchalant, as if nothing about this matters to him. "I almost thought you'd tell him. You knew, right?"

"I _suspected_ ," Ciampa stresses. "Process of elimination. I figured it'd be someone in our match wanting to make things more even, and I knew it wasn't me, so that left you." He sneers. "Besides, I share one thing in common with my Takeover: WarGames opponent. I am not a snitch."

"Right," Johnny says, taking a step towards Ciampa, who tenses. Lifting his hands in what's supposed to be a peaceful sign, Johnny stares at him. "We'll probably never be friends again," he tells him.

Ciampa snorts. "No shit, Johnny Freakin' Wrestling. What about it?"

"You may have gotten your closure," he tells Ciampa, eyes flickering once more to the belt against his shoulder. "But I never did. I fought you, I bled, I scratched, but it was never enough. So here's where I'm leaving it all behind me, one way or another." He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath. "I never understood what the crowd did to you- what _I_ did to you when you were injured," he explains. "All of the talk about replacing you as my tag partner, how it must have ate you alive when you were already in pain and struggling just to be _there_ for me, for the crowd, how they all disrespected you, how alone you must've felt when I disregarded all of it." He tilts his head, examining the stony look on Ciampa's face, the only giveaway to the impact of these words on him being his knuckles whitening as he clings to the belt even tighter. "I don't blame you for taking your moment, not anymore. I'm just sorry I couldn't be there for you when you were going through your surgeries, the long recoveries."

Johnny steps forward and rests a hand, briefly, on the shoulder opposite of where Goldie is, squeezing softly. He stares Ciampa in the eye and half-heartedly smiles. "Maybe some day, you'll forgive me and we can be friends again. If not, though, I understand." He then walks around Ciampa and heads for the parking lot, his shoulders slumped, gaze locked on his feet.

All Ciampa can do is gape after him, realizing after a few moments that his eyes are wet, tears slowly soaking his beard. "Fuck," he breathes out.

 _This_ moment ends up being _their_ catalyst, another seismic shift in NXT's reality. Weeks later, they're standing side by side, breathless, uncertain, staring at each other. "I, uh," Ciampa says awkwardly, running his hand over his head. "Is this reality?"

"I think so," Johnny says quietly, glancing over at him. "Tommaso...?"

"Yeah?"

Johnny closes his eyes, as if bracing himself for something bad, and explains quietly, "This is super late, and it feels kind of silly right now, but... I bought you a Christmas gift... it was just an impulse thing, you don't need to open it or anything if you don't want, but..."

Ciampa clears his throat awkwardly, interrupting Johnny's babbling. "Could you give me a second? I- I have to... do something... and then I'll come back, ok?"

Johnny frowns, but then nods, watching as Ciampa walks off with a strange determination in his step. Almost not expecting him to return, Johnny digs around in his locker and pulls out the gift, running his fingers over the simplistic silver paper. He blinks, somewhere between surprised and relieved, when Ciampa returns a few minutes later, eyes shifting around everywhere _but_ towards Johnny. "Where did you go?" he asks, trying to sound stoic, calm.

"I, uh, got you something too," he mumbles. Johnny blinks as he holds out something in a bag.

"What's this?" he asks, only just remembering to hand Ciampa his gift before opening the bag, too shocked to even think about waiting. He pulls out a chain necklace with a silver charm dangling from it and stares at the Chinese lettering, brows furrowing. "What's it mean?"

Ciampa has to clear his throat a few times, looking anxious, almost uncomfortable. "Forgiveness," he admits, still not quite able to look Johnny in the eye.

Johnny makes a soft noise, moving suddenly, and Ciampa looks up in time to see him put the necklace over his head, touching the cool silver charm reverantly. "Thank you," he says quietly. "It... it means more to me than you'll probably ever realize." He stares at Ciampa. "But what changed?"

Ciampa absently picks at the silver paper holding the package in his hands together. "You did," he finally admits. "You... actually tried to understand me for the first time in what felt like forever." He swallows. "That's all I ever really wanted."

Johnny's eyes soften. "Go ahead, open your gift, man."

Ciampa nods, pulling the paper apart and gingerly laying it aside, peering at the black case within. "I don't understand," he admits, looking up with a frown. "What is it?"

Johnny reaches out and takes the case, unzipping it so Ciampa can see inside of it. "It's for your title," he says. "I know... it's not easy for you to put it down, but if you keep it on your shoulder like that all the time, it probably gets rained on and stuff, huh?"

Ciampa nods, little jerky movements as he tries to digest everything that's happening, his forgiveness, Johnny accepting him as champion... how fast they're moving back towards something resembling friendship. "Yeah," he mumbles. "But I don't like putting it in my regular bag either... This is... this is perfect, thank you, Johnny."

Johnny smiles at him, and for the first time in over two years, Ciampa feels like he can breathe again. "Merry belated Christmas, Tommaso."

"Merry belated Christmas, Johnny," he echoes.


	5. Chapter 5

"It's not often you invite me over here," Velveteen Dream says with a smirk, leaning against Aleister Black's screen door as he unlocks the main door, tinted shades just dark enough that Aleister can only imagine the look in his eye as he gazes at him.

"Yes, well," he says, holding the door open for him. "You often seem more comfortable at your own residence." Aleister follows him inside and only just catches the twist of his mouth as Dream looks around the simplistic furniture, books scattered around, and the two cats that usually have their run of the place. "Is something wrong?" he asks, looking around as if trying to find what Dream seems to think is missing.

"Not at all," Dream says, his face immediately smoothing over as he looks down at Aleister's cats winding around his ankles. "I have to keep a budget for lint brushes now, you know."

It's a deflection, Aleister thinks, but he allows the change of topic, smirking at him before leaning down to pick the nearest- Totty- before holding him eye to eye with Dream, who tilts his glasses down to stare at the cat. "Oh, come on. You know it's not that bad." Dream huffs at him and Aleister chuckles, placing Totty down on the couch and reaching out to tug Dream closer. "I could repay you, I suppose," he mulls it over. "How much do all of those lint brushes cost anyway?"

Dream rolls his eyes. "Stop being ridiculous," he grumbles, draping his hands lazily over Aleister's shoulders and toying with his hair.

"That doesn't sound like much fun." Aleister leans in and kisses him softly. "Besides, I'd rather help fund keeping your clothes flawless than have you pouting the rest of the night."

"Velveteen Dream does not pout," he huffs, trailing his fingers up and down Aleister's neck. "I simply observe and inform people of the facts."

"I see. I suppose it's part of the _experience?_ " he asks, leaning into Dream's touch.

"Damn straight," Dream mumbles, easing forward and kissing Aleister, deeper, longer, hungrier than before. "Can we stop talking about your silly cats now?"

"Yes," Aleister decides, walking backwards and drawing Dream into his bedroom. "I think we can find better things to do than talk right now anyway."

Based on how Dream hooks the door with his foot and sweeps it shut behind them, Aleister knows he agrees.

-x

"Hey, Marla?" Aleister asks later that week, blinking against the bright sunlight pouring in through the kitchen windows. Dream is still asleep in his bedroom and Aleister is in the kitchen, helping the housekeeper prepare brunch.

"Yes?" she asks, looking over at him while she hovers over the stove with a spatula, flipping this vegan omelette concoction that Dream swears by that Aleister hasn't yet found the inner fortitude to attempt.

He hesitates over the mimosas he's mixing together and looks over at her. "Has Dream..." He clears his throat. "Has he said anything about my apartment?" When she looks confused, he clarifies, "If he thinks it's... drab and uninteresting?" She still seems uncertain so he tries again to explain. "There was this look on his face the last time we were there, I couldn't tell what was going on. He seemed normal after that, but I don't know. I thought maybe he said something to you about it."

She bites her lip, looking at him. Taking the pan off of the heat, she dusts her hands off on her apron and turns to face him. "Mister Patrick's not said anything to me, but I think I can hazard a guess," she says. "Come with me a moment?"

They walk quietly through the house, mindful of Dream still asleep nearby, Marla opening up the entertainment room, a couple of the guest rooms, finally stopping the tour by the pool. "When Mister Patrick was a child, his family went all out for holidays. He carries it with him now, as you can tell." She turns expectantly to Aleister and motions around them, his eyes taking in the brightly decorated trees scattered around the lawn chairs, their lights reflecting off of the pool water. "Perhaps... not to overstep..." she says tentatively, "...but that may be why he reacted the way you think he did," she concludes her explanation and he nods, lips twisted thoughtfully.

"I see. Thank you for explaining it to me," he says, hesitating as she leads the way back inside. "Would you mind telling him I had a few things to handle? I'll see him at the Performance Center later."

She smiles knowingly at him. "Of course. Have a good day."

Aleister sighs as he finds his car keys and jacket, heading out of the door. "Maybe," he murmurs dubiously, heading down the wide driveway to where his car is.

It takes _time_ to find everything he thinks is necessary. It takes even longer to get home and set it all up, Aleister focused and intense as he works on it. The cats are around, but he barely pays them mind as he painstakingly takes it one step at a time, trying to remain patient as everything _slowly_ comes together. He leans back on his heels once he thinks he's done and glances over at Totty and Tubby. "Does it look alright?" Both cats blink back at him before slinking away. "Thank you," he calls after them, standing up. "A lot of help as always."

He shakes his head, uncertain. "I suppose I'll find out sooner rather than later," he mumbles.

They're both busy people, training schedules and their own personal lives keeping them occupied, so sometimes Aleister can go a few days without hearing from Dream, which he's gotten used to since their relationship became more serious. But still, when he sees him next a couple of days later, leaning against the ring and watching Aleister train with some rookie wrestler that wants some pointers after a long day of mat-work, gym training, and even some vocalization exercises to make their talking segments flow easier for the crowd's benefit, it's a relief and Aleister offers him a smile before finishing off the kid with a rather rudimentary armbar, standing up and holding a hand out to him, helping him back to his feet. "You're getting there," he tells the guy. "Keep practicing. Maybe we'll have a rematch some day."

Easing out of the ring, he approaches Dream. "Hey."

He peers at him over his glasses, smirking. "Hello. Who was that nobody?"

Aleister rolls his eyes at him. "Friendly as ever, Patrick."

"Only to those who deserve it," he shrugs, leaning closer to Aleister. "What's the plan for today then?"

Aleister glances around before pressing a soft kiss to Dream's lips. "Come over to my place. I have something to show you."

"Another spell? Some trick with your aura you want to teach me?" he wonders, adjusting his jacket as he follows Aleister to the locker room, watching as he gets fresh clothes out.

"Hm," Aleister brushes off the questions. "You'll see, I suppose."

"I suppose I will," Dream says with a smirk.

It's dark by the time Aleister showers and changes clothes so they can leave the Performance Center, the sun already set, and Aleister sighs as he unlocks his apartment door again, feeling Dream brush against his side. They're both tired, it'd been a long day, longer than either had expected, so Aleister thinks about saying something, pointing out his handiwork but Dream walks through the shadowy living room straight to the bedroom like he owns the place and collapses face first into Aleister's bed, shifting only to sink into the pillows. Aleister easily gives up on his original idea and adjusts the bedding to cover Dream's prone body before laying down next to him, not too surprised to find he's already fast asleep, breathing slowly and deeply. "Good night," he murmurs, reaching out to run his fingers lightly over Dream's cheek with a small smile.

Dream sleeps heavily until something disturbs his rest- a click, then strange shuffling noises, and... he groans, shifting and reaching out for Aleister, intending on telling him he thinks the cats are doing something... when his hand brushes against cool sheets and... He sits up, blinking groggily. "Aleister?" Then he squints and looks around at Aleister's bedroom walls, a strange glow coming from the living room. "Wha-..." He forces himself out of bed and stumbles into the living room, freezing just past the doorway, gaping. "Aleister?"

Aleister comes from behind him and wraps his arms around him, kissing his neck. "Yes," he says quietly and Dream swallows.

"You, uh..." He shivers as Aleister continues to kiss his flushed skin, entranced by the white lights flashing cheerfully in front of him. "You have a Christmas tree."

"Yes, I do," Aleister says, staring at it over his shoulder.

"Why exactly? You didn't seem to care before," Dream mumbles, leaning back against him.

"Hm, Marla and I had an illuminating discussion a few days ago," he says evenly.

"Oh, no," Dream groans, resting his hands on Aleister's wrists. "She forced you into doing this? I-"

"No, absolutely not." Aleister sprawls his fingers out over Dream's abs and feels his muscles twitch under his touch. "I merely asked her if she may have a guess why you seemed disappointed at the state of my apartment the last time we were here together... and she showed me parts of your house I don't see that often, how absolutely _every_ room was decorated for Christmas. She reminded me that you're not going to get to see your family this holiday because of our touring schedule so I realized maybe I should decorate because then it'll be something for you to enjoy when you're here."

Dream blinks at the tree a few times and then turns slowly, wrapping his hands around Aleister's waist, grinning affectionately at him. "You did this for me?"

"Yes," Aleister says, smoothing his hands over Dream's hair before kissing him. "I should've thought about doing it sooner, it's just-"

"You're more of a Halloween guy," Dream says with a small chuckle.

Aleister makes a face, then shrugs. "Something like that." He kisses Dream slowly and then glances at the tree. "I've never exactly decorated a tree before, how does it look...?"

Dream hums, examining the tree. "It's acceptable for your first try," he teases him. Aleister huffs and Dream chuckles, cupping his face and kissing him. "I appreciate the purple ornaments you selected. If you decide to decorate again next year, let's do it together, hmm?" he asks, pressing his forehead against Aleister's.

Aleister stares at him, Dream's certainty in their future leaving him warm and pleased. "Yes," he says. "Let's do that." When Dream yawns, he smiles a little. "Come on, let's go back to bed."

"Oh, ok," Dream sighs, following him back to the bedroom and curling up under the sheets, watching the lights reflect off of the wall while Aleister settles in behind him and hugs him close. He's starting to doze off when he hears the familiar sounds of the cats hopping up onto the bed. "Aleister, your cats," he groans sleepily, feeling one of them kneading around at his feet before circling around and settling down.

"I hear them," he says, fondness in his voice. "Don't worry, I'll buy you a brand new lint brush." He kisses Dream's shoulder, chuckling when he grumbles in response. "Get some sleep."

Dream just huffs and closes his eyes, relaxing into the warmth of the cats at his feet and Aleister at his back, the twinkling of the Christmas lights soft against his eyelids until sleep reclaims him.


	6. Chapter 6

Wade sighs over his first mug of coffee of the day, absentmindedly stirring the dark liquid around. Things haven't been easy for awhile, Heath displeased with being kept off of Survivor Series, and just generally being an afterthought as a whole. But things had hit rock bottom on Raw this week, with Heath being forced to defeat Rhyno to keep his job, and then being demoted to referee because of Baron Corbin. Since returning home, Heath's been quiet, subdued, not even willing to walk or play with Boodah, which means a lot of the responsibilities are falling on Wade, which is _fine_ , there have been times when Heath has had to pick up the slack for him, but he feels so useless as Heath drowns in all of this nonsense, Rhyno not even responding to his calls or texts.

Currently, Heath is tossing and turning in bed, trying and failing to get some sort of rest, and Wade shakes his head grimly, staring down at Boodah. "What do you think we should do, boy? Any ideas?" Boodah rests his head on Wade's knee and looks up at him sadly, eyes shifting this way and that as he whines pitifully, Heath's sadness affecting the entire apartment. Wade groans, dropping his spoon into the mug and sprawling his fingers out over the dog's forehead, lightly stroking behind his ears. "I know," he mumbles. "I feel the exact same way."

When Heath finally gets out of bed a few hours later, he blinks upon finding the apartment empty, a vague note by the coffee maker about Wade taking Boodah for a walk. "Well, alright then," he sighs, forgoing the coffee and slumping down on the couch, hair a mess, still in the rumpled tank top and sweatpants he'd _tried_ to sleep in. The cats are wandering around, nosing at his fingers, but he barely reacts to them, staring at the lifeless tree in the corner, not plugged in so none of the lights are doing anything. "This is gonna be the worst Christmas ever," he mumbles to himself, burying his face in his hands. Giving in to the emotions he's tried to hold down, not wanting to worry Wade _too_ much, he stops fighting the tears pouring down his cheeks, lifting his face up to stare at the star topping their tree through blurry vision and slamming his fists into the couch cushions on either side of him, so hurt, so frustrated that he can't find the end of all of the emotions he's been experiencing the last few days. "Dammit, why's it always gotta be me stuck in these positions? Huh? Why'd it have to be _Rhyno?_ "

He's not yet gotten control of himself when he hears car doors slamming outside and looks up with a frown, his eyes red, lips trembling, shoulders still shaking just a little. The cushions are messed up and still showing the shapes of his fists, and he swallows hard, trying to dry his face off, but it's too late, Boodah has bound up to him, licking his face eagerly, and he breathes a little easier, realizing that his dog's just saved him from awkwardness as Wade joins him, smiling wearily at him. "Sorry I was gone when you woke up," he says, taking the kleenex from Heath's hands and lightly cleaning his face off. Heath thinks he can tell by Wade's affectionate expression that Boodah hasn't faked him out as well as he'd been hoping, but he doesn't say anything about it. "Someone's here to see you, Heath," he says quietly, taking Heath's hands and giving them a squeeze.

Heath shakes his head, swallowing hard. "Sorry Brit, I'm a mess, I can't be seein' anyone-"

"They won't mind," Wade insists. "Trust me?"

Heath groans, always weak to that sort of thing from him, and slowly nods, allowing himself to be drawn off of the couch and led towards the front door. His breath catches in his throat and he starts to cry again. "Rhyno?"

His partner looks up at him and swallows, guilt crossing his face when he sees how red Heath's eyes are, the general dishevelment of his hair and clothes. "Hey, Heath," he says awkwardly, shuffling around. "I, um. I'm sorry I didn't answer your calls or texts, I just... had a lot to think about the last couple of days."

"No, no, I- I understand, it's ok, I was just... I was worried about ya." He takes a few hesitant steps towards Rhyno and then stops. "I um... I'm glad you're ok."

Rhyno laughs grimly. "As ok as someone who's just been fired can be, I guess." He watches as Heath's face falls and steps forward. "But Heath, listen, that wasn't your fault, ok? It was all Corbin- I know that. He was determined to screw both of us over Monday and he accomplished it." He swallows. "Who knows, it could've just as easily gone the other way- he could've fired you and made me a ref. Either way, neither of us will be wrestling any time soon I guess."

Heath nods, wiping at his eyes. "Yeah. It really, really sucks, man." His lips begin trembling harder. "The last coupla years have been some of the best times of my life, partnerin' with you."

Rhyno exhales deeply and shakes his head. "Dammit, Heath." Stepping forward, he grabs him around the neck and draws him in, hugging the distraught guy as tight as he can. "Me, too, alright? You were- are the best friend a could ask for. Don't worry about it, I'll land on my feet, I always do." Heath starts mumbling disconsolately against his shoulder about how unfair it is and something about Christmas that Wade can't quite catch, and he watches as Rhyno murmurs soothingly to him, patting his back with soft shushing sounds. When they finally separate, Rhyno cups Heath's face and searches his miserable eyes. "You take care of yourself, right? At least I'm away from Corbin's stupid shit right now, but you're right in the middle of it. Just... do the best you can, ok?"

Heath nods slowly. "I don't wanna ba a referee, man, but I... I won't squander this, since it's cost you so much. I promise."

Rhyno's thumbs tap against Heath's chin and he smiles at him. "You'll be just fine, Heath. And so will I." Heath nods, swallowing hard when Rhyno lets him go. "I gotta go work on some stuff. We'll talk later, alright?" He steps towards the door and nods back at Wade before opening the door and making his exit.

Heath stands for a long, quiet moment, staring at the closed door, before turning to Wade, smiling weakly. "Thanks for doin' that, Brit. For finding him and bringing him over here, and... everything. I thought he hated me or somethin'..."

"No one in their right mind could hate you," Wade scoffs, wrapping his arms around him and drawing him in close.

"Corbin-"

"Like I said," Wade interrupts, tapping Heath's nose. "No one in their _right_ mind..."

Heath chuckles at this, the first real sign of amusement he's shown at all since everything went down on Monday night. "I love you," he says softly, pressing a kiss to Wade's lips.

"I love you too," Wade responds, brushing Heath's hair out of his face and drawing him back into the living room. He watches as Wade leans over and plugs the tree in before settling down on the couch, pulling Heath down to sit in his lap and hugging him close, Boodah sprawling out on the floor next to them. "It won't be the best holiday ever, but we'll make the most of it. Right?"

"Yep," Heath murmurs, watching the lights flicker cheerfully. "Always do, huh?"

"Yep." Wade tilts Heath's face up and kisses him again. "Always have, always will."


	7. Chapter 7

Carmella sighs, sitting on the couch during a rare day off. She will be competing soon to see if she lasts til the finals alongside R-Truth for Mixed Match Challenge, but for now, she gets to sit and relax and think. This year has had some really steep highs, and some really heart-crushing lows. She twirls her hair around her finger and smiles a little, remembering how it'd felt to be champion, to be on top of the world, and how it had felt to lose it. Not to mention all of the personal sadnesses she'd experienced the last few months, the people she's had to say goodbye to, left with only memories to hold her over. Not that she minds being single, it's nice to have fun again, but sometimes, especially with the holidays looming, she does miss having someone there to enjoy it all with.

She's skimming through her twitter timeline, looking for something to cheer her up, when she hears something outside, seemingly coming from her porch, and looks up with a frown. "Maybe just a squirrel or something," she decides when everything falls quiet and peaceful once more. She's just turned on some music when she hears it again- a shuffling sound right outside her front door. Her eyes widen and she quickly swipes off the music, bringing up her dial pad and tapping in 911, when she shifts closer to peek out of the window to see what the cause might be... when the doorbell rings and she shrieks, scrambling away from the windows and leaning against the wall, staring at the door.

 _Never mind the holidays, someone here to help me with_ this _would be nice!_ she thinks, digging her nails into her thighs and struggling to catch her breath. "Oh, shit, girl," she mumbles to herself. Squaring her shoulders, she calls back on everything she was ever taught while growing up in Staten Island and grabs a nearby baseball bat she keeps _just in case_ and gingerly unlocks the front door, phone still at the ready, and pushes it open just far enough to peek out, the chain still in place. It's dark outside, but she doesn't see anyone, even though it's shadowy enough that she thinks there may yet be someone hiding. So she eases the door open just a little wider and looks left to right, her lips twisting in suspicion as she sees nothing. "Dammit," she mumbles, pushing the screen door open to look around more thoroughly...

...just to stub her toe on something laying by her door. Cursing vehemently and hopping around a few times as she rubs at her throbbing foot, she looks down and finds a decent sized box on her porch, the sound of glass rattling around inside. "What the-?" she mumbles, putting her phone in her pocket but still holding onto the bat as she reaches down and hoists the box up. "Is that...?" Carrying it inside, she's careful to shut and lock both screen and main door, putting the chain back on securely.

Once she's relatively sure things are safe and secure around the house- everything locked up, shut tight, etc etc- she curls back up on her couch and stares at the box with a perplexed frown. "Who would send me a gift this early in the month?" she mumbles, reaching out to tug the box closer to open it.

Once she gets the lid pried open, she stares on in surprise, pressing her fingers to her lips. "Oh..." Bottles of Zinfandel, Merlot, Chardonnay and Pinot Grigio stare up at her. "Oh, wow." She touches them reverently. "Just what I wanted!" She pulls each bottle out and settles them on the table, blinking when a card drifts out of the box. "Huh?"

She leans over and picks it up, staring at the familiar handwriting scrawled over the red and green striped sheet. _I'm really sorry about everything. I hope you get everything you've ever wanted these holidays._

She swallows hard and scrubs at her face, staring at the wine with a trembling smile. "So do I," she murmurs, putting the wine back into the box and carrying it into the kitchen. "So do I."

As she leans against the counter and pours herself a glass, resting her fingers against the edge of the note, her smile becomes steadier. _This is a pretty good start._


	8. Chapter 8

It's been a busy year. Intermittent injuries for Zema which leaves both of them a little breathless especially after Mexico, and Robbie building his brand by getting cast on Rock's upcoming show leaves them without a lot of time to spend together, so it's nice to have part of December off to decompress and relax. When Zema wakes up, his cat following him out of the bedroom, Robbie smiles and leans forward, kissing him. "Morning, Z. What do you want for breakfast?"

Zema yawns, runs his hand over his skull, and squints. "Coffee."

"There are eggs staying warm in the oven," Robbie says with a fond eyeroll, pushing his chair back to first hand Zema a fresh mug of coffee, and then to get the food out of the oven. He dishes it up and throws on some toast and sausages before setting it down on the table in front of Zema. "There you go," he says, leaning over to kiss the top of Zema's head before returning to his seat.

"Thanks," Zema mumbles after swallowing half the mug down, some energy returning to him as he yawns and stares at Robbie, a little more alert. Robbie smiles at him before his phone goes off, both of them frowning at the disruptive device. While Zema's has been growing quieter, Robbie's volume of calls and texts have only multiplied, especially once he announced he was going to be on The Titan Games.

Robbie watches Zema's face as he stares down at his food, careful not to respond as the phone quiets, just to resume with its ringtone not even thirty seconds later. "You know what?" he asks, making sure he has Zema's attention before he holds the power button down, effectively turning the phone off. Turning, he stuffs it into one of the kitchen drawers before turning back to Zema. "No more of that. This time is for us, so absolutely whatever you wanna do, Z, we'll do it."

Zema exhales shakily and puts his fork down, eyeing Robbie. "You really didn't have to-"

"Yeah, actually, I do," he says, reaching out and tapping Zema's knuckles. "Feel like we haven't seen a lot of each other this year, _so_ if anyone important wants to get ahold of me, they can call you or just wait until I'm ready to talk to them." He rests his hand on top of Zema's. "Ok?"

"Ok," he whispers, turning his hand over and smiling when Robbie's palm fits perfectly against his. He clears his throat and looks up at the ceiling for a minute before facing Robbie. "Even if I say I wanna stay at home and have a Christmas movie marathon?"

Robbie grimaces, before laughing faintly, shaking his head. "Yeah, bro. Even then. Whatever you wanna do."

The way Zema's whole face lights up makes it all worth it, Robbie grinning as Zema leans down and hoists Wildey up, smirking at the cat. "Hear that, Wildey?! The three of us are gonna watch nothing but Christmas movies for the rest of the day!" The cat makes a confused mrow sound, before Zema places him in Robbie's lap, ignoring his boyfriend's huff as he stands up and finishes off his toast before putting his plate in the sink. "C'mon, bro, I wanna start with Gremlins!"

Robbie's faint groan makes Zema laugh. "Z-"

"Look, I know how you feel about all of that so you get to pick the next two movies, alright?" Zema smiles at him. "I promise. Just... endulge me for a little bit, alright?" He stares imploringly at Robbie, who grimaces after a few quiet moments, giving a jerky kind of nod. "Yes!" Zema cheers, leaning in and cupping his face, kissing him deeply. "I love you, R."

"I love you too, Z," he murmurs, reaching out and tracing his fingers over the edges shaved into his hair, kissing him back before following Zema into the living room and sprawling out on the couch, smiling as Zema stretches out, resting against his chest and turning the TV on as Robbie wraps his arms around him, the two of them comfortable and relaxed while the movie starts.

He grimaces at the opening scenes but when he looks down at Zema, taking in how bright his eyes are, and how happy he looks, he gives in to the ridiculousness happening on the TV. After so many months of pain and grim uncertainty for Zema, Robbie lets go of his displeasure with spending the next couple hours like that, pressing a kiss to his forehead. _That makes it all worth it._


	9. Chapter 9

It had been impromptu, while WWE was on tour overseas. Zack and Ricardo had begun tentatively discussing something to cheer Heath up and it had snowballed into Sofia, Ricardo and Alberto returning to Florida for the first time since moving to Texas. Florida is relatively warmer than Texas and Ricardo exhales as some relief is slowly brought to his arthritic joints, smiling as Alberto squeezes his hand while they depart the personal jet.

Zack is standing inside the airport, waving at them and Ricardo hugs him while Alberto nods briskly at Dolph, the five of them getting into Zack's car with only minor arguments about who gets to sit where between Dolph and Alberto, Ricardo finally putting an end to it by asking him quietly to sit in the back with he and Sofia. As they drive quietly back to Zack and Dolph's house, Ricardo leans forward. "So how is this playing out with Heath?" he wonders.

Zack peeks over while stopped at a red light and explains, "Wade's telling him that I just offered a kitty play date between our cats, so they're coming over with their cats and we'll take it from there. Zema and Robbie should be by a little later, Zema's preparing for a match and Robbie is... who knows what exactly Robbie's doing. Probably shilling for more free stuff. Spud and Ethan are already there, watching over the food to make sure nothing goes wrong while we're gone."

"They'd better not burn down our house," Dolph mumbles.

Ricardo sits back to keep from responding to that, Alberto snickering next to him, and he sighs, lightly elbowing the man to try to keep him from offending their hosts. "I could help, if you need-" Sofia offers.

"No, Sofia, you're our guest too," Zack tells her, looking at her in the rearview mirror. "I mean, if something goes _really_ wrong and we need your magic touch in the kitchen, maybe, but I think we've got everything handled right now. Just sit back and relax with the rest of us."

She fiddles with the strap of her purse, still unaccustomed to this sort of thing, used to always keeping busy with these get togethers, but now that the Florida part of the group always hosts, it leaves her with limited things to do. "Si," she finally nods, forcing a smile as Alberto pats her hand.

They arrive a few minutes later and they get out of the car, greeted by an anxious looking Spud and overly calm Ethan. "Hola," Ricardo greets them, reaching in to grab his suitcase out before turning to greet Spud with an one-armed hug. "How have you been?"

"Fine, considering," he says, a little sheepish smirk on his face that Ricardo wisely says nothing about.

Ethan stands at his back, eyeing Alberto warningly, and the Mexican Aristocrat scoffs, shrugging at him before handing Sofia her luggage and collecting his own. "Are we going to continue stand out here and give everything away when Slater and Barrett arrive, or what?"

"Yeah, alright," Zack says, rolling his eyes skyward once Alberto's walked past, the group following him inside. It smells great, and the decorations are a perfect combination of Dolph and Zack- some ridiculous, comedy based ornaments and figurines, and some are just holiday Funkos on a table, and in the middle of all of that, the tree is beautiful, sparkling with lights and garland and ornaments that are a mix of both of their lives combined together when they'd gotten together all of those years ago.

Both couples recognize the signs- have similar trees and holiday decorations that combine their different interests and preferences, and Ethan looks down at Spud with a soft smile while Alberto kisses Ricardo's temple, glad that things have settled, that they've reached a happy, mostly drama-free portion of their lives together right now.

Sofia, unable to help herself, is in the kitchen with Dolph and Zack while they check on the food, and finally Dolph gives her something to do- the sweet potato casserole, which she sets to happily, mixing together the mashed sweet potatoes with sugar, vanilla, eggs, milk and butter before sprinkling flour, butter and brown sugar all over the tops of the sweet potatoes, humming Mexican Christmas melodies under her breath happily as she works. Zack shoots Dolph a fond grin before checking on the ham, waving a potholder around a few times to get the steam out of the air so he can get a good look at the meat. "This looks fine," he says, pushing it back into the oven to finish cooking.

"I think everything does," Dolph says, resting a hand low on Zack's hip as they look at the stove, everything simmering while they wait for Heath. While standing there, they hear Robbie and Zema arrive and Zack wavers, thinking that he should be a good host and greet them- or at least Zema, but he doesn't feel like leaving the warm, delicious smelling kitchen to resume his usual go-nowhere arguments with Robbie, so he leans into Dolph and grins, waiting patiently until he turns his head and kisses him softly, Zack grinning happily against his lips. Once Sofia has the casserole put together, they wait until Ricardo peeks his head in with a hissed, "Heath and Wade just arrived!" to take the ham out, and turn the rest of the burners off, allowing Sofia to put the casserole in the oven so it can be nice and warm in time for dessert.

"Aw, I dunno, Brit, can't the cats play some other day, I really ain't in the mood-" Heath is saying as Zack opens the door, quickly shutting up and casting him a guilty look. "Oh, uh, hey, Zack, sorry, I-"

Zack waves it off and smiles at him, motioning him in. "Don't worry about it, bro. C'mon in." He doesn't bother keeping up pretenses about the cats, watching Heath's face as he smells the food, takes in the decorations, and swallows hard, realization hitting him hard as he stares at Zack in disbelief. "Merry Christmas, bro," he says softly as their friends all walk into the room from where they'd been hiding in the kitchen or hallway.

"Aw shit," Heath chokes out, his eyes watering even as he laughs, shaking his head. "Y'all- what, what are you doing?" He lightly slaps Zack on the arm and just stares, swallowing hard as he waits for an explanation, only half-paying attention when Zack takes the carriers with the cats into the other room and puts them down carefully, opening each just long enough to put bowls of water and cat food in them before closing them securely, knowing that the cats will be alright until they're done.

"Our schedules are all a mess later in the month," Ricardo says, stepping forward with a smile. "So Zack and I were discussing things, and decided we should do something now, while we all have a few days off." He grips Heath's trembling hands and stares into his face. "Besides, we felt you needed something to cheer you up some, remind you that we're all here for you."

Heath shudders and wipes futilely at his eyes. "You guys're too good to me," he mumbles, sniffing as Ricardo hugs him, rubbing his back slowly.

"Hey, I've been there, too, huh?" he asks, glancing at Wade for a moment before turning his attention back to Heath. "Bad things happen, you get demoted, and it's really demoralizing, but Heath, you're a lot stronger than I am, you'll get through it ok. I know you will." He pulls away and cups Heath's face, staring into his eyes. "One way or another, whatever you decide to do. You stay, you find another path for your career, we'll understand, and we'll support you. Alright?"

Alberto squeezes Ricardo's arms while Wade rests his hands on Heath's shoulders, both exchanging glances- long held guilt in Alberto's, determination to see Heath through in Wade's. Heath finally nods, squeezing Ricardo's hands back before letting go and resting his hands atop Wade's. "Yeah, man. Alright. I'll... I'll try to remember that, no matter what comes of all this."

"Good," Ricardo says softly, his smile growing when Spud and Zema join them, Robbie and Ethan standing nearby, quietly bickering in their way.

Zack chuckles fondly at their friends before snagging Dolph to finish up in the kitchen while everyone else visits. "Thanks for helping me with all of this, bro," he says once they're out of sight, leaning in and kissing Dolph. "I know you can only stand some of the people in there for some of the time, so-"

"Hey, I'd do anything for you, kid," Dolph murmurs, kissing Zack's nose. "Now come on, this food isn't going to get itself to the table."

Zack grins at him, eyes shining happily, and nods. "Yeah, bro." Together, with some help from Sofia, they transport everything over so people can serve themselves easier, and then return to the living room, interrupting Robbie and Ethan's on-going _debate_ about Christmas movies, by the sounds of it, which has grown so ridiculous and passionate that everyone else stopped what they were doing to ogle at them, Zema jokingly suggesting they take bets as it dragged on and on between the two men who, despite everything, were actually close friends and enjoyed these intense discussions, even if they might include threats of bodily harm and dangerous wrestling challenges amongst everything else.

"AHEM!" Dolph finally intercedes, his loud voice breaking through and shutting everyone up.

Zack laughs into his fist at the startled look on everyone's eyes and then says, "Dinner's served, bros. Let's eat!" He keeps back and watches as their friends all traipse into the kitchen, pleased murmurs and approving comments made regarding the food waiting for them. Once everyones' plates are piled high with ham, mashed potatoes and gravy, mixed vegetables, rolls, cranberry sauce and stuffing, Zack and Dolph put their plates together and join the others at the table, grinning around at their friends as they all tuck in.

Sofia gets up a couple of times to put the finishing touches on the casserole, and then to take it out to let it cool, and they all wait patiently for her to rejoin them before continuing to eat, Zack content and pleasantly warm as he watches his friends eat and talk, and eat some more. He's just about to speak up, say something absolutely cheesy and destroy whatever remains of his cred, when Heath looks around at them all, a small, sincere smile crossing his face for the first time since he'd arrived. "Hey, guys?" When they all look up from their plates, his smile grows bit by bit. "Despite it all, I really am the luckiest guy in the world, ya know?" He finds Wade's hand and laces their fingers together before looking at them all individually. "I got the best significant other a guy could ask for, the most supportive group'a friends I've ever seen, and the best pets-" He stops, a look of horror crossing his face as he realizes. "Ah damn, the cats!"

Zack holds out a hand to keep him from madly dashing around to find his wayward pets and shakes his head when Heath pauses, looking at him frantically. "Nah, bro, it's ok, I settled them in the bedroom and put some water and food in the carriers for them. They're ok, no worries."

Heath settles back in and stares at him, catching his breath as Wade rubs his back soothingly. "Right... yeah, alright. Sorry. Whoo boy. Like I was sayin'," he says with an awkward laugh. "I really am the luckiest guy in the world."

Zack smiles at him, not even minding that Heath's taken the words right out of his mouth. "I think we all are really lucky in different ways, bro," he says, leaning into Dolph's warmth and watching their friends enjoying the last of their meals, talking quietly amongst themselves.

Heath grins. "I think you're right." He chews on some ham for a minute before looking back up, catching Zack's eye. "Thanks for all of this, man. And since I forgot to say it earlier, Merry Christmas."

Zack grins at him. "Any time, bro. Any time."


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Apologies for the delay on this one, it's been a long day and then I fell asleep before I could properly finish it.

It's always been something of a surprise, how well all members of The Kingdom, old and new, get along. Well, with the exception of Adam Cole, but he was never as loyal to them as they tried to be to him. Matt Taven is sitting on the couch, mulling over this while listening to Maria and Michael Bennett whisper back and forth, voices little more than hisses against his senses, and he rolls his eyes as he diligently cleans off his title belt- the special, purple strapped creation that confirmed that he, and he alone, was ROH champion. Not Dalton Castle, not Cody, definitely _not_ Jay Lethal. Finally curious, he puts the belt down across his lap and clears his throat. "What are you two whispering about?"

Almost looking guilty, Maria and Michael look over at him, before exchanging glances. "We're discussing hosting a holiday party for anyone on the 205 Live roster who's interested," she says bluntly. "Someone's against the idea though." She lightly pokes Michael and he grimaces, looking over at Taven for help.

Matt absorbs the relief on his significant other's face as he slowly gets to his feet and ambles over to them, draping his arms over both of their shoulders and smirking. "I think it sounds like a great idea." He watches as Michael's face falls into a bitter sort of resignation, leaning in to lightly kiss the side of his mouth. "Sorry, babe. Just think you should get to know the roster, hm?"

"Thank _you_ ," Maria says, and Taven smirks lazily over at her as he moves his arm off of her and loosely drapes it around Michael's waist. "I'll handle everything. All you have to do, Mike, is show up, _maybe_ mingle a little. I swear, that's all."

"See?" Taven teases him. "Easy."

Mike rolls his eyes, staring glumly at Taven. "You were supposed to have my back on this," he pouts and Taven rubs his arm with a vague chuckle.

"I always do, Mike. That's why I said this should happen. You need to get to know the others better, observe, start to figure out how everything works in that world, so you can succeed better. We all know wrestlers are looser, more prone to screw up and reveal weaknesses outside of a professional setting. Remember all of those stupid parties I would host when we were tag champs?" He grins at the dawning realization on Michael's face. "Now you know why," he teases him, kissing him again.

So they host the party, and it's obnoxious, and loud. Maria had informed everyone they could bring a plus one, so their house is crowded, people wandering around with plates of food, wine glasses filled as high as possible, ahhing and oohing over the Christmas decorations that Maria had worked hard on once they were sure they were absolutely doing this and all around generally ignoring Michael, Taven and Maria, clearly just here for the free food and to mingle with the co-workers they _can_ stand.

Drake Maverick is nearby, casting a watchful eye over his group of Cruiserweights, almost as if he's here to chaperone more than actually enjoy himself, and Taven rolls his eyes, well aware of the problems he's been giving Maria and Mike. He's tempted to go give the guy a piece of his mind when some tall guy he thinks he might recognize from NXT comes up behind him and hands him a mug with a quick grin as Drake steps back into his warmth, sipping from the cider contentedly. Matt's resolve immediately falters. "Eh, maybe later," he mumbles, turning away to look around at the others scattered around.

TJP isn't far away, ignoring all of them with a bored look on his face until his +1, Neville, returns to his side, plate piled high with snacks over which he doesn't complain about _too_ much as TJ grabs a couple of finger sandwiches and starts to chew on them, leaning into Neville as the two of them exchange what's probably ugly, judgmental comments about most of the people milling around.

Brian Kendrick and Akira Tozawa are on one side of the room while Jack Gallagher and Drew Gulak are on the other, Drew and Ariya Daivari talking about who knows what, Hideo Itami standing not far away, dark eyes sweeping over the crowd as he takes it all in. Taven rolls his eyes, observing how Gallagher and Brian keep glancing at each other, _just_ missing locking eyes with the other as they repeatedly look away at the wrong time in what has to be the stupidest dance Taven's seen in a long time.

Lucha House Party have even decorated their ridiculous pinatas for Christmas, lights fliashing from around their necks, and Michael glowers at them as they sweep past, whooping and celebrating even harder than they usually do. "Ugh."

Cedric Alexander and Mustafa Ali are hovering by the drinks, chatting even as they keep their eye on Buddy Murphy and Tony Nese, who seem to be unabashedly examining the entire group, Cruiserweight title reflecting all of the lights mockingly across his shoulder. There are a few other people scattered around the room that Taven doesn't recognize off hand and he shrugs, glancing over at Mike, who looks as disinterested with all of this as Taven feels.

This being Maria's idea, he assumes she'll be the one putting together whatever she was hoping to get from this little party, since that was always his role for these sorts of things whenever he would hold one of these, so he has no guilt about reaching out and easing his hand into Mike's, drawing him closer with a tug. "Come with me," he says softly, watching the curiosity cross Mike's face. He draws him through the house, away from the group of wrestlers, past the decorations, and outside, where it's just a little cool- for Florida- but quiet, peaceful.

They lean against the side of the house and look out at neighboring houses, some with lights gleaming here and there down the street, inflatable Santas and snowmen dotting a couple lawns. Mike rests his head on Matt's shoulder, exhaling softly. "Thanks for getting me out of there," he mumbles. "I know it's a smart plan by Maria, but ugh, not at all how I was planning on spending my evening off, y'know?"

Matt chuckles and toys with Mike's hair, brushing the strands this way and that before resting his head against Mike's. "How were you planning on spending it then?"

" _Probably_ taking my favorite ROH champion out on a date," he says, lifting his head to smile at Matt, who looks pleased with his response. "Maybe next time, huh? I _am_ glad you were able to come to this, make it a little more bearable at least."

Matt's lips quirk up in a smile and he leans in, kissing Mike slowly, softly. "Like I'd miss this, Mike." He chuckles. "I know parties aren't really your thing, especially when it's full of people you can't really stand."

"Yeah," he mumbles, wrapping his arms around Matt and drawing him in close. "Thanks."

Matt's fingers trail up his neck, brushing against the back of his head, and Mike shivers as he kisses him again, thoroughly, lingering, slow, teasing swipes of his tongue leaving Mike breathing heavily when Matt pulls away, pecking his lips a couple of more times. "Merry Christmas, Mike," he murmurs, pressing his forehead against Mike's and grinning at him.

"Hm," he groans, trying to regain control of his faculties through the dazed, tingling feeling spreading through his veins after that kiss. "Damn. Merry Christmas to you too, Matt."


	11. Chapter 11

Things have been busy, between Jason rehabbing his neck, and working as producer at times, and Chad on tour with WWE, working towards becoming tag champions with Bobby Roode. Which happens while Jason is sitting in a hotel room in Atlanta, feeling lost and a little choked up. He's barely gotten to see Chad lately, and now he's watching him on TV celebrate- in gear matching Roode's, holding the title belt up proudly, and it's as if American Alpha was never a thing. He swallows hard and tries not to think about the choked, close-to-crying feeling that's overwhelming him.

He shudders and stands up, shutting the TV off before grabbing his jacket, keycard, and wallet, deciding he needs some air, to get out of this stuffy room. He doesn't notice his phone light up as he shuts the door with a loud slam, head ducked down, hands buried in his pockets as he goes for a long walk. He's not sure how much time has passed as he goes in circles around where the hotel is, sometimes looking around at the Christmas decorations, and sometimes lost in thought as he watches the cracks in the sidewalk disappear under his feet.

It all just hurts too much right now, his career getting cut short so suddenly, the possibility that he may never recover enough... that Chad moved on so quickly, so easily, without him. He stares up at the cloud covered moon overhead and chews on his lip, shaking his head. "That's not fair, JJ," he tells himself. "Not fair at all." Chad didn't deserve to sit in limbo while they waited for a verdict one way or another on if Jason could recover enough to be cleared to compete again. It just hurts deep down inside for him to watch his tag partner, his life partner, stop wearing their gear and adopt more and more of Bobby Roode's mannerisms and style.

He feels exhausted, emotionally and physically, so he trudges back to the hotel and makes his way slowly up to his floor, unlocking his door and collapsing into bed after putting the Do Not Disturbed sign down and locking it securely, even putting the chain on. He then collapses into bed, his phone continuing to flash on without gaining his attention.

He sleeps hard, stirring only once for a few moments, blinking up into the darkness, before wiggling back under the sheets and passing out again. Until someone starts pounding on his door, startling him awake. "Jason! I don't care about this DND sign out here, you need to answer so Gable stops blowing up my phone at all hours!"

It's one of the WWE medical staff who had traveled with him to get his neck examined, see how his recovery is going, and he blinks rapidly, scrambling out of bed and rushes to the door, fumbling first with the chain, then with the regular locks. Finally getting it open, he comes face to face with the man and groans. "Sorry, Rick, I just needed a good night's sleep. Last night kind of... sucked..."

"I understand," Rick says, "but you have a really pushy significant other, who wouldn't leave me alone until I came to wake you up, so you might want to check in with him."

"Right," Jason mumbles. "Sorry. Wanna come in?"

Rick shakes his head. "I feel like this is something you should handle alone. Besides, I have to double check our flight out of here."

Jason nods, clapping him on the shoulder, before watching him go. He then shuts his door behind him and collects his phone, swallowing hard when he sees just how many times Chad has tried to call and text overnight- excitement and happiness quickly turning to worry, then to fear. He dials his number and listens as Chad answers immediately. "Jason! What happened? Where are you? I was trying to get a flight out there, but-"

"No, no, I'm fine," he cuts into Chad's horrified babbling. "I swear, I am. It's just... I. I'm sorry, Chad. I saw you win with Bobby, and it... I guess it overwhelmed me. I needed some air, and I left my phone behind when I went outside. I fell asleep as soon as I came back and I just... didn't hear it ringing or anything. I- I didn't mean to worry you."

Chad doesn't say anything for a minute. "I should've warned you," he breathes, sounding a little choked up. "About- about my not wearing my singlet anymore. Jason, it didn't feel right. That singlet was... that singlet was us, you know? I've been working on new gear for awhile, but it didn't happen soon enough, so I kept having to wear the singlets, and..." He doesn't say anything for a minute. "I'm so sorry, JJ. So sorry..." He sounds choked up, if not crying already, and Jason's heart twists painfully, always hating it when Chad gets _this_ upset. Which seems to be happening too often since Jason's neck injury.

"Sssshhhh," he soothes him. "Listen, your flight's soon, right? Mine is too. We'll meet up at home, and we'll... you know what, we'll go pick a tree out for the living room. You've been wanting to for awhile, right? Let's make time for it now."

"Really?" Chad whispers, and Jason smiles.

"Yeah. Really."

"I'd really love that," he breathes out.

"I know you will. So I'll see you in Florida. And, hey, Chad?"

"Yes?"

"Congratulations on winning the belts last night. You really deserve this." He means it. The words hurt to say, but he's sincerely happy for Chad.

"Thanks," Chad sniffs. "I love you, JJ."

"I love you too, Chad." He smiles sadly as he hangs up, feeling awful that not only had he made Chad worry, but he'd been guilty this entire time too. Not that Jason has much time to think about it, he has a flight to catch as he gets up and starts to collect his things, eager to go find Rick and find out when exactly they're leaving.

He reaches Florida with plenty of time to spare, content to sit outside and absorb the sun outside of the airport while he waits for Chad's flight to land. He finds a book in his bag and begins to read, getting almost half of the way through it before his phone goes off. _I'm in Florida,_ Chad's text reads. _I'll be back at the apartment soon._

Jason stands up and walks back inside, heading for the gate he knows Chad's flight had come in at, and watches the shock and delight crossing his boyfriend's face before he drops his luggage and rushes forward, leaping right into Jason's arms. "JJ! You're here!" he cries out, squeezing Jason's waist with his legs, pulling back enough to cup his face and kiss him enthusiastically. They both ignore the response of the various people who are gawking at them, Jason running his fingers through Chad's hair, beaming up at him.

"Yeah, of course, where am I going to be?" He sets Chad back down on the floor and chuckles, kissing his hands. "And that's not all," he says. "This tree lot I've found should be open right now. Wanna go right now and pick a tree out?"

Chad's eyes shine and he nods, leaning in once more to kiss Jason. "Yes," he breathes. They stop at the apartment long enough to drop off their luggage, shower and change clothes, and then they're off.

Jason looks over, walking hand in hand with Chad, examining tree after tree, trying to find the perfect one for their apartment, and smiles, tugging him closer. "Have I mentioned lately that I love you?" he wonders and Chad grins up at him, pressing their foreheads together.

"Actually, yeah," he says softly. "But I wouldn't mind hearing it again."

"I love you so much," Jason murmurs, cupping Chad's face and kissing him gently. "And I'm so proud of you. I wish it were me, of course, but it really shows how strong you are... that when you needed to, you were able to find ways to survive in this business. Partnering with Shelton when Kurt needed me, and partnering with Bobby now. It's brave, and intelligent of you. I'm glad you were able to find ways to keep yourself relevant in the business we both love so much. You won't hate me if I live a little vicariously through you, do you?" He hasn't heard back yet on the tests they'd just had run, but he knows his chances aren't necessarily good- even if he returns now, it had only rarely ended well for people in the past.

"Anything that helps you," Chad vows, kissing him softly. "I love you so much, Jason."

Jason smiles down at him, softly kissing his cheek, his nose, his mouth, their fingers curling together as he squeezes Chad's hands gently. "I love you too. Now come on, let's go find this elusive tree." He laughs as Chad nods, the two of them marching on through the lot, finding something wrong with each tree they look at, until they find _the one_ standing just a few feet away, not too big or too small, just the right amount of thickness to fit, already looking exactly like what they'd imagined for thier apartment when they began talking about doing this.

"That's the one," they breathe together, turning to look at each other and chuckling as they lean close and stare up at it for a few moments before having it cut down, hope and affection mingling together in their gazes. "This is going to be a really good Christmas," Chad whispers.

"As long as I'm with you," Jason murmurs, wrapping an arm around Chad and hugging him tightly.

"Always," he says softly, resting his face against Jason's chest as he curls his arms around him and hugs back about as tightly, swaying softly in the Christmas music just audible from where they're standing. "Come on, let's go buy this baby, and then we get to go home and decorate it!"

Jason's eyes widen in horror as he remembers the next logical step in owning a real tree- the lights, the bulbs, the garland, the- He groans.. "Uh, you know, I think it looks fine the way it is, we really don't wanna over-balance it, or-"

"Haha," Chad says, leaning up and kissing him. "You're doing it all with me, and the tree is going to be even more gorgeous than it is right now. Come on."

Jason sighs and allows himself to be dragged over to the main building where the actual money changes hands, his lips are cold and dry but his eyes remain warm and soft as he takes in the happiness in Chad's eye, the bounce in his step. Which makes it all worth it, especially after yesterday.


	12. Chapter 12

"The only other real man left on 205 Live is Hideo Itami?" Drew Gulak's voice, dry but teasing, breaks into Ariya Daivari's thoughts as he leaves the room where he'd been interviewed. "I'm not sure if I should be offended or what."

Ariya turns and smirks, peering over his glasses at him. "Well, excuse me, I figured you were so busy obsessing over how to end Brian Kendrick's career that you wouldn't notice anything I had to say, much less care." He leans closer to Drew as he walks up to him in the hallway. "I've seen more of Jack Gallagher than you since my return anyway." He runs a hand down Drew's arm and squeezes his fingers. "Started to get curious why that is, really. Not that I mind Jack, granted, but still. He's not you."

Drew sighs and runs his free hand through his hair, absentmindedly squeezing Ariya's hand back. "I don't know, I just didn't want to distract you, I guess. Getting your footing back after an injury, especially something as serious as what you went through, it's not easy. We both know that." He looks up at him with a vague smile. "I'm very glad to see you're back to full-strength though." He lifts their hands and watches as Ariya flexes his fingers, remembering the last time they'd seen each other, how he couldn't grip anything. The terror both of them had felt in that moment, and what it could've meant for Ariya's future. "Forgive me?"

"I guess." Ariya lets go of Drew and raises his hand, Drew staring at him for a minute before it dawns on him and they highfive, lowfive, and then makes their hands into fists, motioning like they're operating a train and chanting, "Choo choo!", Ariya laughing when Drew echoes him, a wistful grin on his face. "Those were the days, huh?"

"Yeah." Drew sighs. "He was such an asshole."

"Definitely." Ariya glances over at him. "I miss him."

"Me too." They grin at each other, shuffling their feet for a few seconds, remembering the better times of the Zo Train.

"I have an idea," Ariya says suddenly and Drew looks up at him curiously. "You can make all of this up to me by spending Christmas with me at my place. I don't want to hear anything about Kendrick the entire holiday, and we're just going to watch stupid movies, eat a ridiculous amount of food, and maybe play pranks on carolers. Alright?"

Drew hesitates and Ariya points at him warningly as he waits for an answer. He then holds his hands up, nodding. "Fine. I'll be honored to spend Christmas with you. As for Brian Kendrick- who? Once I beat him next week, I'm done with all of that stupidity."

"Great. See you then." Ariya smirks at him, oozing calm confidence as he walks past Drew, down the hallway to see if he can figure out where Itami may have gone to follow up on their earlier conversation.

"Hey, Ariya, wait a second!" Drew calls after him, walking quickly to catch up with him, and Ariya pauses, turning in time for Drew to cup his face and rasp his thumbs over his facial hair. "I really have missed you," he murmurs, leaning in and kissing him softly.

Ariya exhales, gripping Drew's arms, a small smile spreading across his face as he's reminded of the main thing he'd had to leave behind when he was injured. "I missed you too," he responds, resting his forehead against Drew's.

Drew kisses him again, eyes bright with, Ariya thinks, hope. "I'm really looking forward to spending Christmas with you."

Ariya's eyes gleam as he nods at him. "It'll be great to catch up," he agrees. "And hey, maybe we can even talk to each other sometimes at arenas, who knows. Get really wild with things."

Drew laughs a little and shrugs. "Yeah, anything's possible. 'Tis the season, huh?"

"Yeah, it's a pretty good time to feel like anything's possible," he says softly, leaning in and kissing Drew. "Though," he says, making a face, "I have absolutely no idea what to ask Santa for now."

Drew laughs and wraps an arm around him, walking with him down the hall. "Well, I guess since I just ruined that for you, I suppose I'll just have to help you think of a last minute plan B."

"Definitely the right thing to do to work towards a better 205 Live," Ariya agrees, feeling pleasantly warm everywhere that Drew is touching him. Considering how things were seeming only a couple of months ago, still so touch and go with his career and health while he struggled to rehab his neck enough to avoid surgery and get cleared, Christmas looks like it's going to be a really happy holiday, unlike what he was expecting.

He grins and rests his head on Drew's shoulder for a moment, the two of them pausing to glance in at catering and its massive, brightly lit Christmas tree before continuing on, happy just to be together again.


	13. Chapter 13

Seth stares at the date that flashes on the dashboard of his rental while tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. He's alone, which sucks. It's cold, which sucks more, his knee aching like it always does in this kind of weather. "Two weeks to Christmas," he mumbles. Last Christmas had been its own kind of hell- he was alone then, too, but for very different reasons. Dean had been injured, and then Jason had gotten injured, and Seth found himself losing the tag belts twice over.

This Christmas, however, ... well... Dean is recovered, but he hates just the sight of Seth, anything that has to do with him, with The Shield. And in some twisted, dark way, Seth understands. He'd been there, after all. Burning everything that had mattered to him the ground for fame, for that sliver of importance, to not have to be trapped under the expectations of everyone else around him. Dean... Dean is doing something very similar because the weight had become too much for him, he has paranoid and anxious and wanting to answer to no one or nothing but himself. So yeah, Seth can kind of understand, though some of it concerns him- the phobias, the actions taken to keep from getting sick, all of that. He thinks, sometimes, about talking to Renee, but she's made it clear she's not the one to turn to for answers, so he keeps his distance from her. Focuses on Dean, on his Intercontinental title. TLC.

He's not sure what hurts more sometimes- his knee, or his chest, when just looking at Dean aches like someone's squeezing his lungs so he can't take in a full breath. He's been in a slow-motion hellscape since that night- Roman's announcement, Dean's attack, everything moves along at a snail's pace and Seth feels like he's underwater, only coming up for air when he's in ring, fighting for his title, for survival. That's the only time he feels like he's alive and not muddling through day by day, second by second. But the worst memory, something that keeps replaying in his nightmares, is Dean sitting by that dumpster and throwing the Shield vest into the flames like it meant nothing to him anymore.

He'd done similar, metaphorically, at any rate, when he'd gladly traded the Shield gear for suits and first, the briefcase, then the title belt. But there had been a place in his closet set aside for the mask, the gear, the memories. Things that he had stared at during the long recovery to get back to healthy and thought about, never quite coming to a concensus about it all before his knee was good again- and now he has to wonder, during Dean's recovery, what he'd done. If he had looked at _his_ things and felt regret, disgust, anger. If _that_ had been part of the reason why he'd snapped and made _this_ move.

Seth sighs and rests his head against the steering wheel, still picturing the flames licking at the once important vest, how he had been tempted to leave the ring, go salvage the remains... but aware that it would've been nothing but ashes once he'd found it. Which, he knows, is what Dean was hoping to do to _them,_ but Seth isn't quite able to give up on him that easily. Especially considering, no matter how terribly he treated them, Roman still saw him as a little brother, and Dean... Dean showed his feelings in different ways, even when their feud turned particularly ugly.

Exhaling hard, Seth stares out of the windshield and thinks he knows what he has to do, reaching for his phone. "Hey," he says quietly. "Yeah, it's Seth. I need your help with something." He pauses. "I know this is really bad timing, with the holidays and everything, but-" He stops talking and closes his eyes. "Thank you. So here's what I was thinking..."

-x

On Christmas Eve, Renee is going through Dean's bag, trying to make sure he hasn't forgotten anything important in his things- doesn't want to think about all of the food she's found in there over the years, forgotten, and in disgusting shape... when her fingers brush against something cold and hard among his clothes and other things. Blinking, she pulls out a memory stick and flips it between her fingers, well aware that Dean owns nothing like this, probably doesn't even know how to use it. Taking it into the dining room, she finds their laptop and starts to play it, her eyes growing brighter and wetter the longer she watches the video saved onto the stick. Once it's finished, she takes it out of the computer and walks it into the living room, placing it in the bookshelf behind her books, where Dean never looks.

She stands there, staring at its hiding spot, wondering when, if ever, Dean will be in a better headspace, where she can give it to him and know that he'll take it for what it means, and not just tear it out of the laptop and crush it under his boot the instant it starts to play. She jumps, a little, when he comes in and stares at her. "What are you doing?" he asks, walking around her and sitting down on the couch, stretching out for the remote and clicking around for something to watch that isn't sappy or to do with the holiday. Which leaves him with limited options.

"Oh," she exhales, relieved when he doesn't seem to notice anything too out of the ordinary. "Nothing. Just... tidying up a little while I can." He says nothing to this so she returns to the bedroom, leaning against the door and burying her face in her hands, trying to regain control of herself. "Merry Christmas, Renee," she says sarcastically to her reflection before continuing to sort their bags out, breath still hitching every few moments while she packs a few things for the _next_ tour.

-x

Weeks pass. Months. Years. Seth moves on, bit by bit. The loss of Dean, of his Intercontinental title. It all goes by so quickly, he's amazed sometimes when he looks at the date and counts backwards, remembering how he'd thought he couldn't make it past that first hour, first day, first week, first month... But he had, and he's here, still working with everything he's got, night in, night out. Barely sees Dean anymore, their careers taking divergent paths. He'd been drafted over to Smackdown, which is a breath of fresh air, and found himself thrown into the middle of it all between Daniel Bryan, AJ Styles, Samoa Joe. He thrives, even claims the WWE title.

It just so happens to be at the year's TLC event when he defeats Daniel Bryan, catching his breath and whirl-birding his title enthusiastically, until the ring seems to shift under him- the crowd boos, but before Seth can move, turn to see what's going on, something heavy, thick and strong has rammed right into him. He only catches a glimpse of Lars Sullivan before things grow hazy and he curses himself for forgetting about Daniel Bryan's _bodyguard_ , almost feeling like he's having an out of body experience as the monster of a man tosses him around like he's nothing- and yeah, that's kind of apt, really. He's felt like nearly nothing for a long time, despite the successes, despite the hard fought victories, despite the pain he feels and the sharp sting of loss.

He thinks at this rate that he's going to be stripped of another world title, especially when Lars and Daniel seem to make it a contest to see who can shatter his knee the worst, but then the ring rattles again and Lars looks up in time to take the impact of something hard to the face and Daniel quickly scrambles out of the ring to safety. Seth groans, rolling away and curling up, holding his knee protectively, only half-hearing the rough sound of a steel chair blasting against Lars again and again, and... Lars must get away because the chair hits somewhere behind Seth and rebounds and he lays there, sweat and tears dripping down his face as he considers living through this again, rehabbing a third knee injury all alone, possibly having to miss another Wrestlemania season, having to-

His thoughts stutter to a stop when a hand rests on his back, familiar, warm. Calm. "Seth."

It's Dean's voice, and now he thinks he's really lost his mind, burying his face in the mat, trying to swallow down his tears. But the touch is still there, that voice still in his ear, and he shudders and shivers as he's carefully rolled onto his back, completely melting down when he looks up and- yeah, short brown hair, deep blue eyes, that familiar furrow to his brow. " _Dean,_ " he breathes out. "Why?" He almost wants to take the question back, remembers the last time he'd asked it, how Dean had reacted, how it'd only made him want to hurt himself, hurt Seth, hurt everyone around them even more, but Dean's face is pensive, almost tender, as he cups Seth's face and stares into his eyes. "W- why, Dean?" he asks, reaching out to grab onto _something,_ grips Dean's tank top. Blinks and squints, trying to see through the sweat and tears. "Why...?"

"I saw your video," he says quietly. "I, uh. Renee thought she hid it on me pretty well, but..." He looks around at the crowd, watching them, apt in this newest chapter of Seth and Dean's story, even though they can't hear what's being said and they're not sure what's happening. "You were right," he tells Seth. "I was so pissed, everything was so... overwhelming... I never wanted anything to do with either of you again... but I got my head on straight, for the most part, after you were put on Smackdown... It took a long time, but I... I... I don't really know what to say right now."

Seth touches his arms, staring up into his eyes. "I forgive you, Dean," he says, hoping that this is the right thing to say, that it won't open up those old wounds in him, send him back down that ugly path where he wanted nothing but to hurt Seth, hurt himself, hurt everything that mattered.

Dean's head bows low over Seth and he shudders, nodding. "I don't deserve it," he mumbles.

Seth rubs his hand through Dean's hair with a small smile, realizing with a sharp pang just how much he'd missed even that simplest of action the last few years. "I didn't deserve your forgiveness, but you gave it, so I guess we're even now." He lightly nudges Dean and sits up with a groan, breathing heavily as fresh pain throbs up his knee. "I gotta... I gotta go to the trainer..." He stares up at the lights over the ring and shakes his head. "I can't go through this again..." His misery only grows when the referee brings his title belt and hands it to him, Seth swallowing hard as he stares down at it.

Dean supports him quietly the entire way, referee on the other side, and Seth tries to hold it all together as he limps up the ramp with their assistance.

-x

It's late when they make it back to Seth's house and he collapses down onto the couch, letting the crutch he'd been given by the trainer drop against the wall next to his seat, closing his eyes and listening as Dean wanders around, turning on lights, still as comfortable in this place as if the last few years hadn't happened. "Good thing TLC was in Davenport," he mumbles. "It's... it's good to be home..."

Dean sits down next to him and rests his chin on his fist, examining Seth's pale, pain-lined face. "You should probably take something."

"Nah, not right now," he sighs, sitting up and stretching his knee out. They wouldn't know for sure until he has scans done, but the trainer is _almost_ hopeful that it won't require surgery, or even a lengthy time out. Just a strain or something along those lines. Which Seth could live with. "Thanks for staying with me through all of this."

Dean nods. "No problem." They sit quietly for awhile, Dean picking at the back of the couch, Seth absentmindedly poking at his knee."So..."

"So," Seth murmurs.

"Where is it?"

Seth knows immediately what Dean means, anxiously gnawing at his bottom lip. "Back of my closet. Dean-" But it's too late, Dean's already up and gone, and Seth sighs, remembering the phone call, the video. Despite how long ago it was, his memories remain crystal clear of it all.

-x

 _Hazy, awkwardly balanced because Seth has never been great at making videos with his phone without someone there to help him. But he still tries, staring into the device. "Hey, Dean. I know... I know you hate me, but it's Christmas, and... I had these plans," he says slowly. "Things I wanted to do since you were cleared to compete and everything. But I guess it doesn't matter now, I'm gonna be going solo this holiday. And that- that's ok, really. I had some ideas for gifts, which is impressive because we know how much I suck at it, but again, I've set those aside. Maybe some other year, huh? But I did get you something. You're not getting it any time soon, I guess, because it'd probably just end up in a fire along with the other one, but... I have it. Whenever you want it."_

 _He holds up a vest as similar to Dean's previous Shield vest as he could have made in such short notice and stares down at it, reverently touching the leather, smoothing out the few non-existent wrinkles that he sees in it. Looking up at the phone, he forces a smile, the sadness obvious in his gaze despite the grainy resolution. "All you have to do is ask for it, Dean-o. Merry Christmas."_

 _His shadow as he gets up and reaches out for the phone, pressing a button as the video freezes on his exhausted, grim face, leaning over to turn it off._

 _-x_

Dean pushes Seth's ridiculous amount of skin-tight jeans and band shirts away until he finds the vest hanging, in a plastic bag, way in the back. He stares at it for a few minutes, pulling it out, and carefully pulling it out of the protective covering, touching it, allowing himself to remember _everything_ , good and bad memories that came from this symbol of their brotherhood. He closes his eyes and shakes his head, turning to look at himself in the mirror, a rush of emotions overwhelming him so quickly that he can barely blink. "Damn," he breathes out, holding the vest against his chest.

Seth hears him before he sees him, sitting up awkwardly and waiting for Dean to appear at the foot of the stairs, make his way into the living room to let him know what he really thinks about the vest- if he's maybe shredded it to pieces with the first sharp thing he'd found upstairs, or- Seth's breath catches in his throat as Dean enters the living room, wearing the vest, tugging at it in an awkward attempt at adjusting it to fit properly over his chest. Seth swallows hard and fumbles around for the crutch before giving up, struggling to his feet and hopping over to Dean. "You-"

"Whoa, whoa," Dean snaps, rushing forward to grip him under the arms, holding him upright before he can overbalance and crash face first into the floor. "Are you trying to really fuck your knee up here? This isn't _that_ important."

"Yeah, actually it is," he mumbles, still touching the vest, eyes locked on Dean's face. "You didn't destroy it..."

"Of course not," he says. "I told you, I got my head on straight."

"It looks good on you," Seth breathes out, gripping it and adjusting it so easily that Dean envies him for a moment. "Who knew that you would end up actually receiving it close to Christmas after all? Too bad it wasn't for the one I had it made for you... but this is good... this is..." His words fade away and he smiles weakly. "I almost wasn't sure you'd ever want it."

"I wasn't sure either," he admits. "But... The Shield is one of those things... no matter how I try, I can't leave it behind. We'll always be brothers, through all of the good and bad. I lost sight of that for awhile, but... that was stupid of me, I should've known better." Seth nods, tears filling his eyes, and Dean helps him back over to the couch, settling him down and bringing the crutch closer so Seth could reach it without a problem. "What do you say? Wanna watch some awful TV until we both pass out?" Dean asks, looking around for the remote.

Seth just smiles, still staring up at him in the vest that he never thought he'd get to see him in again, that old familiar look in his eyes as he stares down at Seth, guarded but affectionate, his fingers twitching against the remote as he waits for Seth's answer. "Yeah. I'd really like that," he finally says, smiling as Dean sits down next to him and turns the TV on, seeming content to sit there with the vest on.

Seth shifts a little, in the process of getting comfortable, when Dean looks over at him. "Hey, Seth?"

"Yeah, Dean?" he asks, tensing up just a little, as if he expects this to be the moment when everything goes wrong, when Dean goes back to his destructive ways.

But no, he smiles, crooked and so familiar that it makes Seth's chest ache in a good way, as he stares at Seth warmly. "Merry Christmas, man."

Seth sits and stares at him for a moment, bittersweet feelings buzzing through him. Finally he inhales deeply and smiles too, ducking his head. "Merry Christmas, brother."

Everything feels a lot lighter, more... ordinary now, and they shift, getting more comfortable, as Dean continues flipping through channels, Seth only half paying attention to what's flickering across the screen as he rests his head on Dean's shoulder and drifts, too warm and content to worry _too_ much about what might happen with his knee and everything else right now.


	14. Chapter 14

The Miz squints, staring up at the tree as he delicately strings lights around it, tongue poking through his teeth. "Ugh, the worst possible part of doing this," he mumbles, squirming between the tree and the wall to fit the lights behind there as well.

"You could've asked for help," John chides him, returning to the tree with a big box of ornaments that Maryse had directed him. "These could've waited a minute."

Mike shrugs, still trapped in some branches. "Felt like I could handle it myself while you were searching the upstairs closet, but yeah, I guess so." He pushes the lights into John's hands and making a motioning movement with his hands, watching as John sweeps the lights around the front of the tree before handing them back to Mike so he can get them around the back. They keep going back and forth like this until reaching the top of the tree, John stepping back with a smirk as Mike wiggles free and steps back to look. "Not bad."

Garland is next, and then bulbs, the two of them listening to Taya and Maryse talk over coffee in the kitchen, cooing over Monroe Sky and her first Christmas. John chuckles, digging through the box while Mike leans up to place a red bulb as high up as he can reach. "Did you ever imagine we'd be here in ten years, man?"

Mike pauses and glances down at him. "What, still friends, or married and with kids?"

John shrugs. "Both, I guess." He shakes a few bulbs free from each other and chuckles. "I mean, we didn't exactly get along when we first began partnering. It took awhile for you to see what a goldmine you struck with me as your partner."

Mike scoffs. "Oh please, I was a perfect joy to be around then, you were the stick in the mud who only cared about parkour and your glittery abs."

"Oh my God," John laughs. "I'd forgotten about bedazzling my abs! Maybe I should bring that back..."

"Uh, no," Mike says, pointing at him. "I don't think Lucha Underground's Johnny Mundo would stoop to such levels."

John makes a face at him, returning to the box to dig out some more. "Here," he says, standing up and helping to put some more ornaments out- other multi-colored balls, some silver and gold ornaments in the shape of sleighs and snowflakes that had come from Maryse. They work quietly for awhile, falling back into that old, well-known dance of knowing where the other's at, keeping from tripping over each other as they circle the tree a few more times, placing ornaments here and there until they think it looks good. "Taya?"

"Hey, Maryse?" they call for their wives at the same time, smirking at each other.

"Yes?"

"Could you both come in here and tell us what you think about the tree please?"

"Coming," Maryse calls back and in a few moments, she and Taya appear in the doorway, blinking at the tree.

"Wow," Taya murmurs.

"Told you, leave them to it and it'd turn out pretty well." Maryse winks at her and saunters into the room, handing Monroe over to her daddy to examine the tree closer.

"It's beautiful," Taya offers, leaning into John and smiling as he kisses her.

"Yes, very nice job, Mike," Maryse tells her husband, joining her husband and daughter as they turn to look at the tree. "But there is _one_ thing missing."

Mike clucks at her. "Do you truly think we would put the tree on without you two here to witness it? That's the best part!" Handing Monroe back over, he leans down and pulls the star out of its box, nodding at John as he walks up to the tree and stretches as best as he can to put it up there. Until, that is, he almost overbalances and takes the whole tree down with him. "Shit," he mumbles, eyes squeezed shut until he feels a hand pressed against his back, the tree wavering but holding.

"Such a klutz," John teases him and he opens his eyes to find that John was holding the tree in place while keeping him from overbalance all at the same time. "Now, try that again- _wthout_ almost knocking the tree over, mmkay?"

"I'll try," he says dryly, stretching up once more and, with the two of them working together, succeeds at getting the star in place. "There ya go."

"Yep," John says, looking up at it. "Now come on, we have to plug this bad boy in and see how it looks."

Mike lets John handle that, stepping back towards Maryse and Taya, sheepishly shrugging as they whisper to each other. "It wasn't that bad!" he insists, not sure what they're saying but somehow knowing it's towards his almost wrecking Monroe's first Christmas. Choosing to ignore them, he turns just in time as John plugs in the tree, which lights up the entire room between the soft glow of the star and the rotating lights around the tree itself. "Wow."

"It's gorgeous," Maryse says, smiling brightly as Monroe gapes at it, in awe. "Isn't it, baby girl?"

"You guys did a really great job," Taya says with a wide smile. "It's incredible. I almost wish I'd helped with it." She teasingly pinches John as he makes a face at her, laughing.

"No, you don't," he rolls his eyes, leaning in to kiss the top of her head.

"Ok, true, I don't, but it's still an amazing looking tree."

Mike and Maryse laughs at them, before stepping closer to the tree, Monroe lightly brushing her fingers against the branches and babbling softly. "Merry Christmas," Maryse murmurs, Mike smiling at her.

"Merry Christmas, yes. Isn't it going to be the merriest, Monroe?" he asks his daughter, playing with her chubby fingers as she stares up at him, lips parting. "Of course it will, you're spending it with mommy and daddy, and Uncle John and Aunt Taya..."

"And we're all going to spoil her something awful," John laughs, coming up and chuffing her under the chin lightly.

"Great," Maryse groans.

"You say that like you're not going to too, a little bit, mama," Taya teases her and Maryse huffs, looking away. "I'm taking that as a yes," she laughs.

Letting it go after a few moments, Maryse faces them once more, shrugging. "What else would you expect on my little girl's first Christmas?" which makes them all laugh again.

She joins in after pointlessly glaring at them and the five of them look up at the tree, enjoying the lights as they continue to glow cheerfully, reflecting off of the various ornaments and garland. "I love Christmas," Mike mumbles.

"So do I," John says. "You really should do more Christmas movies, Mike. Why'd that stop?"

Maryse moans, burying her face in her hands. "Why did you have to mention that?" she mumbles, not surprised as Mike's eyes light up and he turns to debate ideas with John. "No no!" she snaps, gripping him by the arm and keeping him by her side. "No movie talk right now."

"Oh fine," he pouts, just to mouth _later_ at John, who nods with a smirk as they resume enjoying the Christmas tree with their wives and Monroe Sky.


	15. Chapter 15

Spud has been quiet, withdrawn the last few days. Ethan can think of a few reasons why- the nonstop piss jokes from pretty much _everyone_ since Survivor Series, losing the tag titles only a week after getting his first win on Raw. And... Ethan having lunch with Karlee. It'd all worked together to leave Spud glum, barely responsive to the worst of Ethan's jokes, all but ignoring all attempts to get him to talk. So Ethan knows this is going to take something _big_ to cheer him up, so he digs deep and is almost disgusted with himself for not thinking of it sooner once it _does_ dawn on him.

"Of course," he mumbles with an eyeroll. He digs around in the closet for a few moments before grabbing his phone and leaving the house, relieved that Spud is currently at the Performance Center, working out some frustration in a work out. Once he gets in the car, he makes a call. "Yeah, I need your help with something. Money's no object." He hesitates. "Yeah, it's that important. ... Yes, yes, I screwed up. Could you please...?" He kneads his forehead with his knuckles. "Thank you." Putting his phone down and maneuvering the car out of the parking lot, he drives off with a focused look in his dark eyes.

-x

Spud groans as he gets home, stretching his muscles out. It'd felt good to work out so hard, but he's definitely feeling it now. He sighs and looks up with a frown, immediately noticing the silence, the general... stillness of the apartment. "Bullocks, is he off having another lunch date?" he asks, biting sarcasm in his voice as he heads down the hall and sheds his clothes as he goes, getting into the shower and pressing his forehead against the cool wall, blindly turning the water on and letting it pour over his body, the water slowly heating up and easing his soreness the longer he stays there.

He's just about to reach for the soap when he hears the front door open and Ethan's footsteps wander the apartment, before heading for the bathroom. "Hey, Spud?"

"Yes?" he asks, running his hand over his face and stepping out of the stream of water so he can talk easier.

"When you're done, there's something waiting for you in the bedroom." He then leaves and Spud rolls his eyes, his bad mood ratcheting up a few.

"Great," he mumbles. "Another of Ethan's heavyfisted attempts at apologizing." He stands under the water and thinks about never getting out for a few minutes but finally he finishes washing up and shuts the water off reluctantly before wrapping a towel around himself and stepping out.

It takes a minute for him to see it, blinking in confusion for a minute as he runs his hands over the sleek, soft material. "No bloody way," he gasps, eyes widening as he realizes exactly what Ethan's getting at.

Ethan has his back to the living room entrance when Spud approaches, but he hears him, lips twitching upwards as Spud rests a hand on his lower back. Turning, Ethan examines him, lips twitching up. "See, you _do_ make a convincing Dark Knight," he smirks, reaching out and adjusting the cape of the specially sized Batman costume, resting his hands on his hips and leaning into Spud. "And? Do I make a good Robin?"

Spud shakes his head and laughs, the first real laugh he's had in weeks. "So bloody ridiculous." He sighs, his eyes softening as he looks up at Ethan. "I love you, sir."

"I love you too, but we're not done yet," Ethan smirks, resting his hand on Spud's back and guiding him out of the apartment.

"Oh, what, sir-" Spud tries to protest, but Ethan just ignores him, teeth flashing as he grins brightly.

Ethan's got a list of addresses from _somewhere_ and Spud gapes on in shocked horror as he finds himself at Heavy Machinery's apartment, Otis and Tucker staring suspiciously at them as Ethan enthusiastically, _poorly_ sings _Holly Jolly Christmas_ , totally unashamed in his Robin costume while Spud stands mutely by his side. "Uh, thanks?" Tucker says uncertainly once Ethan's done.

Ethan smirks at him and they turn to leave. "Any time you want to, you can join in," he says, sounding oddly comfortable and light while Spud stares up at him. "It's fun, tiger."

"Oh, bullocks," Spud mumbles, already feeling his resolve crumbling.

Ricochet listens to _Jingle Bell Rock_ with a vaguely confused smile on his face, even claps politely when Ethan is done. "Hey, Merry Christmas, guys. I don't get the costumes, but yeah, ok."

Matt Riddle takes in _Frosty the Snowman_ with a look of awe on his face, blinking slowly as Ethan enthusiastically belts it out. _"Bro_ ," he emphasizes, giving Ethan a round of applause with a wide grin on his face as they turn and leave.

Spud's heart sinks when he realizes who the next house _must_ belong to but Ethan marches on, undisturbed, standing straight as Velveteen Dream answers the door and scoffs at them, looking them up and down coolly. "You do realize Halloween was almost two months ago, yes?" he wonders, lowering his glasses with a finger and staring at them incredulously.

Ethan ignores this and starts singing _White Christmas_ with the same over the top gusto he'd given the others, Dream rolling his eyes as he leans against the doorframe and watches him, lips twisting into a sneer, and- _Oh hell,_ Spud thinks, before finally joining in, distracting Dream from his judgmental scrutiny of Ethan. His voice is weak, uncertain, at first, but Ethan's face lights up when he realizes Spud is finally singing along, and it helps, somehow, Spud just starting to get into it when the song concludes and Dream huffs, rolling his eyes, before going back inside and slamming the door on them.

Spud's about to shout something insulting at his door when Ethan turns and hugs him, kissing the top of his head. "You're the best singing Batman I've ever seen!" he chortles. "Come on, it's a blast!"

Amazingly enough, it is. They sing _The 12 Days of Christmas_ to a bored looking Aleister Black, and _We Wish You A Merry Christmas_ as Kairi Sane and Io Shirai clap in time happily.

"One more stop," Ethan says once they're done there, and Spud turns to look at him.

"Who could possibly be left?" he wonders, and Ethan looks over at him with a mischevious gleam in his eye that leaves Spud almost hesitant to find out what's next.

The apartment they stop at is quiet, dark inside. They knock, and wait, and Ethan shrugs, undisturbed as he knocks again, louder this time. "Maybe whoever it is isn't home?" Spud suggests, frowning as Ethan shakes his head, leaning in and knocking nonstop.

"Trust me, this guy is most _definitely_ home. As soon as the door opens, start singing," Ethan tells him and Spud blinks anxiously, trying to remember the lyrics as Ethan continues slamming his fist against the door.

Finally, just when Spud thinks the neighbors might start complaining, the door slams open and Tommaso Ciampa stands before them, title belt on his shoulder, and a dark glower on his face. "WHAT THE HELL-"

Ethan starts singing before he can finish yelling, and Spud quickly picks it up, stumbling only a little over the beginning couple of lines of _Deck the Halls_ , Ciampa's jaw dropping in horror as they sing loudly, happily, too shocked to even chase them away. They get to the end of the song and Ethan reaches out, gripping Spud's elbow. "Merry Christmas!" he exclaims happily.

Spud blinks stupidly, then cries out, "And have a Happy New Year!" over his shoulder as Ethan pulls him away before Ciampa could get over his shock and come after them. "Why did you pick him, sir?!"

Ethan waits until they're safely in the car, quickly driving away, before pulling off of the road a couple of blocks away and ducking his head over the steering wheel, shoulders shaking in laughter. "Just wanted to see his face," he chortles. "Man, as much fun as it was singing for those who actually _enjoyed_ it, nothing is better than caroling for people who _hate_ it. Ah." He sits back and wipes at his eyes, turning to look at Spud with a bright smile. "Besides, this is the first time in about a month I've seen a legitimate smile from you, so that definitely made it all worth it."

Spud's smile wavers, just a little, but he fights to hold onto it, staring up at Ethan. "Yeah, it hasn't been the best month."

Ethan nods. "I'm sorry for my hand in that. I wasn't really thinking, I guess, but it was really just lunch to catch up with an old friend. Nothing more, nothing less." He cups Spud's face and smiles down at him. "You really do make an impressive caroling Batman, though, Tiger."

"Thank you, sir," Spud breathes out, leaning into his touch with a soft smile. "Maybe this sort of thing can become a yearly tradition for us."

"I'd like that," Ethan agrees, tipping Spud's face up and kissing him softly. "Merry Christmas, Spud."

"Merry Christmas, sir," Spud hums, kissing him back.


	16. Chapter 16

Christmas season. Pete Dunne rolls his eyes as he enters the Performance Center, UK title held on his shoulder. He's not a big fan of all of the festivities, the music, the lights, the food, how people are so pushy with their good cheer, so he walks quietly through the halls, purposely avoiding the party he can hear from here, finding William Regal's office and knocking quietly. "Come in," Regal calls out and he enters, relieved to shut the door behind him, muffling at least _some_ of the music and laughter from down the hall. "Ah, Dunne. What can I do for you?"

He stands for a moment before taking the seat Regal motions to and awkwardly adjusts his belt. "I was just curious if there are any other matches I'm going to be booked for in NXT after the holiday tour, sir," he says, thinking about the first real taste of the main roster he'll have when he goes to Madison Square Garden and competes in an eight man match.

Regal stares at him thoughtfully, running his finger over his upper lip. "Perhaps," he says. "I'll let you know closer to the time. I believe you'll be quite busy with the NXT UK division, but we would be happy to have you continue to compete for us when available."

Pete nods, not too surprised by this. "Thank you, sir." Even though his business is pretty much concluded, he's in no hurry to leave, so he stays awkwardly, watching Regal stand as if to see him to the door.

"Is there something else?" Regal asks, lifting an eyebrow when Dunne still doesn't move.

"Not really, no, sir."

Regal laughs faintly, staring at the door. "I imagine you're avoiding the party then?" he asks. Dunne's scowl is all the answer he needs, Regal smirking as he motions for Dunne to stand up. "If it's any consolation, there is a locker room just down the hall from my office that appeared empty last I saw it. Perhaps you can find some peace and quiet there, hm?"

"Thank you," Pete says, finally leaving the office and slinking down the shadowy hall to the locker room Regal mentioned. He pushes the door open and slips inside, relieved to sit in a corner and block out what little noise bleeds through with his earbuds, connecting them to his phone and looking for something to watch while he waits for the afternoon ring training sessions to begin, that will hopefully put an end to the partying.

He's so lost in thought, mulling over the last year, what he wants 2019 to be, for himself, for the UK division, for everything, that he doesn't register when light begins to enter the room, nor the presence standing over him. He _does,_ however, feel the kick to the heel of his shoe, his entire body tensing as he stands up, pulling his earbuds out almost viciously. "What do you want?" he snaps, staring at Ricochet incredulously.

The man just laughs and holds his hands up. "Ease up, man. I saw you leave Regal's office, and well, I mean, you know we're having a Christmas party just down the hall, right?"

Pete rolls his eyes. "Of course I know. That's exactly why I'm in here, where it's _peaceful."_

Ricochet laughs. "Of course. I should've guessed, you're a Grinchy type."

Pete huffs, feeling more and more annoyed the more time he spends in Ricochet's presence. "Excuse me?"

"You know, shoes are too tight? Head's not screwed on quite right? Heart's two sizes too small?" Ricochet's grin grows as Pete glares at him. "You're probably sitting in here complaining about all of the _noise, noise, noise_ of us nasty little Whos in Whoville."

Pete scoffs and turns away, eager to get away from Ricochet's nonstop needling, maybe find a new place to wait. "I'm not here for some ridiculous party, I needed to talk to Mr. Regal, and now I'm waiting for the afternoon training session to begin."

Ricochet checks his phone, then whistles. "You're gonna be waiting awhile then," he says, teeth flashing as he steps closer to Pete. "You're _sure_ you didn't come early for the party?" Pete glowers at him and Ricochet laughs, holding his hands up. "Alright, alright. Fine, you're not here for the party. But what, you're just going to sit in here in the dark and ignore everything for the next hour or so?"

"Yes," he says simply.

Ricochet rolls his eyes. "Wow, alright, well, I'll leave you to it then," he mumbles, heading for the door.

Pete releases a relieved exhale once the door closes behind him, leaving him in the peace and quiet of darkness once more. He's just sat down, however, working at detangling his earbuds, when the door opens again and he's back on his feet within moments, glowering at Ricochet. "What about _peaceful_ did you fail to understand? I want to be left alone."

Ricochet scoffs at him, holding out a plate of something that smells... alright, a glass in the other. "Don't worry about it, I'm not staying in this dreary room with you, I just figured if you didn't want to socialize, or deal with the Christmas music and whatever else, the least I could do is bring you something to eat while you wait."

Pete blinks a few times, taking the dishes from him and staring at a slice of ham, sweet potatoes, a roll, some vegetables, and even a slice of apple pie. Something that smells like mulled cider sloshes around in the glass. When he finally shakes off his shock, he looks up to find Ricochet is already heading for the door. He clears his throat and calls out, "Wait- wa... wait a second." Ricochet pauses and looks over at him and Pete exhales. "Thank you. You didn't have to do... anything."

"Yeah, well. You're welcome. I know the holidays can be rough when we're away from our families and everything. So a little bit of kindness seemed the least I could do. I'll see you around, Pete," he says, shutting the door solidly behind him.

"See you around," Pete murmurs, settling back on the bench and putting the plate down long enough to wrap his earbuds up safely, before leaning against the wall and listening while he eats.

If he focuses hard enough, he can just hear the steady, soft droning of the Christmas music echoing through the arena from down the hall, allowing himself a quick smile.


	17. Chapter 17

Shane McMahon stands patiently by the couch, lips twitching up into a smile. "Come on. You know you want to."

"No," AJ Styles drawls lazily, barely looking up at him from where he's fiddling with a video game controller. "I really, really do not."

Shane digs his fingers into the pockets of his pants and leans forward, trying to gain AJ's attention. "Please?"

"No."

"For me?"

"Hard pass." AJ's tone is dry, his eyes not even flickering towards Shane when he sits down next to him and nudges him quietly. "You're not changin' my mind, Shane. I ain't got a reason to be there anyway, ain't champion anymore, remember? Daniel can put on the suit and suck up to all the rich people hangin' out there. I get a break from it right now."

Shane rolls his eyes. " _AJ,_ it's the annual Christmas corporate party. Heyman always gets Lesnar out of them, and do you _really_ think Daniel's going to be any use at this sort of thing?" They both pause, thinking about The New Daniel Bryan, with the crazed environmentalist spew, and how anti-commercialism he is. "What are we left with? Ambrose? Shinsuke? Ronda and Asuka will be there, yes, but we need someone else, someone the stockholders will recognize, be comfortable around. _Especially_ from the blue brand. _Please..._ "

AJ makes the mistake of looking over at him, staring into his hopeful, pleading eyes. "Ah dammit!" he groans as his resolve crumbles into little pieces, pressing a few buttons on the controller to save his game and shut it off. "Fine," he grumbles. "But I swear, if Miz is there, he says _one_ thing about y'all's love child or how you're a family, I'm gonna kick his ass so hard on Smackdown he ain't gonna be seeing straight until 2019."

Shane holds his hands up. "Fine. I'd actually like to see that, in all honesty." Leaning closer, Shane cups AJ's face, brushing a thumb over his facial hair. "Thank you, Allen." Kissing him slowly, he smiles when AJ relaxes under his touch, Shane reluctantly pulling away and resting his forehead against AJ's. "Your suit's laid out in the bedroom."

"Friggin McMahons, always so sure that I'm gonna say yes," he grumbles, freeing himself from Shane's hands and standing up. His anger fades when he looks down and sees the calm, affectionate smile on Shane's face, grumbling at how thoroughly Shane has him under his thumb.

"Thank you," he sing-songs. "AJ?" Before leaving the room, AJ turns to look at him. "I love you."

AJ huffs, hesitating in the doorway with a hand against the wood as he stares at Shane. "I love you too," he mumbles before walking down the hall to go change.

Shane chuckles, warm and happy as he settles back against the couch to watch the tree flicker cheerfully while he waits.

-x

The party itself is long, always lasts until well past midnight before the last few major stockholders and other business partners, advertisers they have, things of that nature, leave, full of food and drink, and more than content to continue doing business with WWE for another year. After some fast talking to convince him to go, Shane sees Vince to his limo and waves as his father finally, _finally_ leaves, giving his son the rare responsibility of dealing with the venue, seeing that it all gets cleaned up and left in good condition.

He's standing by the door, watching as the floor is swept clean, the tables left spotless and the bar re-organized for the next event to be held here, when AJ approaches him. "Ah, there you are! I wasn't sure if maybe you fell asleep or something. It won't be much longer. I just promised Vince I'd oversee all of this so he could go rest." He'd been gone, dealing with business outside of the WWE, for long enough that coming back to find his father well into his _70s_ and starting to show it, slowing down bit by bit, had been a shock, and some days he still feels like he's adjusting to the reality of it all. "It's been a long night. But a good one. Thanks for coming with me."

AJ nods, turning to stand shoulder to shoulder with him to watch the people bustling around to leave the room in pristine condition. "You know, maybe when they finish up and leave..." he says slowly, words fading away teasingly.

Shane turns incredulous eyes at him, curious. "What are you thinking about, Mr. Styles?"

"Well, there was a lotta dancin' at tonight's party," he says, recalling spinning Asuka around as she'd laughed, eyes gleaming in her surprisingly sensible green dress. "But there was one dance I missed out on and that was the slow dance."

"What a tragedy," Shane says. "Give them a few more minutes, ok?"

AJ nods, his hands in his pockets as he eyes Shane, the soft twinkling lights surrounding the room casting a golden gleam over his face and hair. He smiles faintly, wondering when he'd gotten quite this lucky. Something had _shifted_ after Wrestlemania 33, respect due to the match they'd had easing into a strange kind of fondness, and AJ can still remember the look on Shane's face when he'd first kissed him, as if he'd surprised himself, and it had only built from there, fear over Shane's reckless daredevil attitude and how he'd gotten sick just before this year's Wrestlemania only cementing the depth of AJ's growing feelings for him.

So now they're here and AJ grins, almost sheepishly, when Shane insists that he can make sure the building gets locked up nice and secure, ushering the cleaning crew out subtly, even tipping them for working so hard this close to the holidays. His easygoing charm, mixed with the money, makes them eager to do whatever Shane says and AJ laughs once they're alone, hooking his fingers in Shane's collar and drawing him close. "You're good at gettin' people to do what you want," he drawls.

"Hmm, sometimes," Shane murmurs, settling his phone down on a nearby table and tapping the screen a few times, AJ watching his face as slow, instrumental Christmas music begins playing. His face relaxes into a soft, affectionate smile as he holds his hand out to AJ. "May I have this dance?"

AJ nods, enjoying the feel of his palm against Shane's, sighing as he's drawn into Shane's solid warmth and they slowly start to circle around the quiet, peaceful room that had been full of talking, laughing, dancing people just a couple of hours earlier. "Ya know, I was really reluctant to be here," he confesses. "It ain't easy to go from champion to zero in a matter'a days after bein' on top of that mountain for so long. And facin' all of these people. But everyone was real nice about it."

Shane shakes his head at him. "AJ, there's no way _you're_ ever gonna be a 'zero' in this company, alright? You're too talented. And now I'm even more thankful you came tonight, so you could see for yourself that Daniel's actions will not diminish your success, in the shareholders' eyes or anyone else's. Ok?"

AJ grins sheepishly and ducks his head for a moment, still a little overwhelmed by the easy way Shane always goes out of his way to compliment and bolster AJ whenever he shows doubt in himself in private moments like these. "Thanks, Shane," he murmurs, not surprised when Shane cups his face, stroking his cheeks until he looks back up and their eyes lock. "I love ya."

"I love you too," Shane whispers before leaning in and kissing him, long and slow and sweet, the Christmas music continuing to ebb and flow around them as they slow dance for awhile longer under the soft lights.


	18. Chapter 18

Dalton aches. In a good way. Yeah, he'd lost, but just the fact that he's able to compete at all again feels like a victory to him. Too much of the year had been spent with the teeth gritting fear that he may never wrestle again haunting him, his Boys by his side as he went from doctor to doctor to figure out what was wrong, each one saying something different until a specialist noticed something in particular on his most recent x-ray. Two small fractures, which led to him getting injections in his spine which made him bite his knuckle to keep from screaming, his back sore and excruciatingly tender for a few days afterwards. But it helped, he feels better than he has in awhile, and the specialist and he are still working together to finetune a perfect regimine to keep his core strong, help his back to slowly recover.

So he's back to what he loves, Brandon and Brent by his side, waving their fans and hopping around, so excited to be back where they're all happiest. Ignoring the Kingdom's actions best they can, because ugh, they're all so uncouth. Thankfully his Boys are ok, no thanks to Vinny, and he tries to insist that he's ok, that they can just rest, but Brent is leaning over his back, gently kneading his fingers into the muscles of his lower back, Brandon's hands working over his hip, down his thigh. There's a soft smell of peppermint in the air from the massage oil he prefers during the holiday season, and he moans softly, feeling his tension and frustrations at losing leaving him in a rush as his Boys hum to soft Christmas music coming from the radio.

Dalton's feeling sleepy, warm, and thinks for a few minutes about stopping them, making them come to bed with him, and help him to stay awake a little longer, but he can barely find the energy to lift his head, much less form words, so he continues to lay surrounded by pillows, and enjoys the feel of his Boys massaging deep into his knotted muscles and painful bones. He thinks at some point he must fall asleep because it seems a little darker in the room, and his lower body is covered in a sheet, both Boys laying on either side of him. "Dalton?" Brent whispers, sensing the change in his breathing. "Are you awake?"

"Mmmm," he groans into the pillow and Brent giggles, leaning in to gently kiss him. "Sweet Boy."

"How are you feeling?" he wonders, brushing his nose against Dalton's cheek and smiling at him.

"Good. You Boys always have the magic touch," he sighs softly, reaching out and brushing a hand against Brent's jaw. "Help me to sit up."

"Dalton, no-" Brandon interrupts.

 _"Please,_ " Dalton emphasizes. "I don't want to fall asleep again. I want to enjoy some of the holiday season with you, my Boys. Please?" It takes both Boys to get him up and rolled over without too much pain, but finally Dalton is settled against a stack of pillows, a smile on his face as Brent and Brandon nuzzle into him, kissing his face. He stares at the soft lights gleaming on a small tree resting on the hotel room desk, music still cheerfully playing on, and looks over at the Boys. "I love you both," he says softly.

Brent smiles at him and kisses him gently, warm and so loving that it makes Dalton's toes curl. Brandon eases in when Brent moves away, cupping Dalton's face and gliding their lips together, a little more aggressive, possessive, than his twin, leaving Dalton gripping his arm as he gives in to Brandon's need to be in control when they're in private. "We love you too," Brandon tells him, eyes closed as he kisses at Dalton's jaw, his nose, his forehead.

They're still laying there, breathing each other in, when Brent returns with three wine glasses, all filled about halfway with a promising amber liquid. Passing around the rare alcohol that Dalton had picked up while on Chris Jericho's cruise the month prior, the three of them settle back and swirl the liquid around in their glasses, following Dalton's lead to let it breathe before sipping from it. "Hang on!" Brent exclaims, stopping them both from taking a sip. "Let's make a toast first."

"It's nowhere near New Years," Dalton points out with a dry chuckle. "But alright. What should we toast?"

His Boys exchange glances, Brent nodding, before Brandon lifts his glass and stares right at Dalton. "We toast to your good health, Dalton. And may you find all fo the successes you could ever hope for in 2019"

Dalton's smile is bright, warm as he holds his own glass out, eyes suspiciously wet. "Well, all I can really say to that is 'Here's to the best Boys anybody could ask for.'" The three of them grin at each other, clicking their glasses together, before sipping deeply. Even Dalton seems impressed by the wine as he hugs his Boys close and kisses the top of their heads, not too surprised when they doze off from that minor amount of alcohol. "Good night, Boys," he whispers to them, marveling at how beautiful they look. "I love you."


	19. Chapter 19

Kazuchika Okada rolls his neck, exhaling softly as he stares out at the city spread below his penthouse window. 2018 had not been the best year, between the loss of everything important to him- the IWGP title, Gedo. He had fallen into a kind of delusional childlike desperation, bringing balloons to the ring and trying to act like Gedo's betrayal hadn't mattered to him. But it had, and he'd missed Shinsuke deeply in those days, knowing that the man's cool calm would've helped to ease his own turmoil, keep him calm. Maybe even talk some sense into Gedo. But Shinsuke is not here, Shinsuke is in America, enjoying his title as US champion, and Okada _is_ proud of him, no matter how much he misses him.

He sighs, fiddling with his phone. There's two clocks, side by side, and he stares at them, tilting his head. One has his timezone on it- the other has Florida on it, his way of trying to make sure if he texts or calls, Shinsuke won't be asleep. It's mid-morning over there, and the realization makes his mind work as he gets an idea, lips twitching up into a small smile. He keys in a quick search and blinks at all of the options listed on the screen of his phone, quickly noting down a phone number.

His English is a little spotty but serviceable when he places a phone call, brows furrowing as he waits for the phone to be answered. Once it finally is, he exhales softly. "Hello, I was wondering if I could place order? Christmas Eve... Hai, yes, that- that fine. Thank you." He feels more cheerful when he finishes going through his custom order with the woman who'd answered, hanging the phone up and turning back to the window. He may be spending the holidays with a few more losses weighing on him than he'd like, but he can still do things for the people he cares about, no matter how far away they are, and that makes him feel better about the general course of his life right now.

Sitting down on the couch, he turns the TV on and leans back as soft music fills the room, Okada grinning as he leans back and relaxes, staring up at the ceiling in contentment.

-x

Shinsuke hums, checking his phone as he heads home after a work out. He thinks it's maybe just a little too early to try to video chat with Okada, but he is curious what he's doing today, especially after everything that's been going on for him the last few months. He sighs, pushing the door to his home open and stepping inside. He's just barely gotten his shoes off, padding down the hallway towards the bedroom to shower and change, when he hears someone knocking at his front door.

Brow furrowing, he turns back around and answers the door, confused as he stares down at the woman waiting with a box in hand. "Are you Shinsuke Nakamura?" she asks, only stumbling a little on his name.

"Ah, yes. That is me." He watches her curiously as she holds the box out to him. "What is this?" He takes it from her and she smiles, setting an envelope on top, and he blinks. "Excuse me-"

"Open the card, and you'll understand," she says cheerfully. "Merry Christmas!"

He shakes his head as she turns and runs back towards where her car is parked on the street, biting his lip. "Yes, right. Merry Christmas to you too," he mumbles, going back inside with the card and envelope. Tapping his fingers against the table, he frowns and finally reaches for the envelope, splitting it open with his thumbnail. It's a simple card, with _Seasons Greetings_ sprawled across it in glistening golden lettering, and he hums, flipping the card open. His jaw drops when he sees the name on the card and quickly sets it aside, reaching for the box.

He stares down at the cream covered cake within, strawberries decorating it, and he swallows hard. "Christmas cake!" he gasps, staring at the Japanese tradition that he hasn't had the time or energy to make so he could enjoy it for the last few years. They'd worked Christmas the year prior, and this year he just hadn't felt like spending the time to make one. Choosing to ignore the timezones, he grabs for his phone and accesses the program, not too surprised to find Okada online. "Kazuchika!" he says, somewhere between chiding and pleased. "What have you done?"

Okada laughs, his teeth flashing as he takes in the shocked happiness on Nakamura's face. "Surprised you, I hope," he says, going along with his friend by speaking English. "Did it?"

"Hai! I am not sure how you did it, though," he says, reaching over to swipe some of the cream off of the cake and tasting it, his eyes fluttering happily before he turns back to the phone.

"I am the Rainmaker, I can do anything I truly want," Okada says with a pleased grin. "And I wanted to give you a taste of home. So Christmas cake."

Shinsuke nods, well aware of how much Okada misses him, how badly he wants him to come home to NJPW, to Chaos, some day. "Thank you, Kazuchika," he murmurs. "I hope you have a good holiday as well."

Okada's half-hearted shrug leaves Shinsuke aching, just a little, but he forces a smile anyway. "I am sure it will be fine. I am not concerned. Something always works out." He stares at Nakamura and chuckles softly. "You have cream on your mouth."

Shinsuke flushes, suddenly regretting how he's been trying to sneak bits of the cake during their conversation. "Thank you again for this, Kazuchika," he says, glancing at the clock on his phone. "It is late, you should try to get some sleep."

"I suppose," he sighs. "Have a good day, Shinsuke."

"Thank you. Good night, Kazuchika." Kazuchika ducks his head and smiles, just a little bit, before the screen goes black, Shinsuke staring at it for a moment.

There isn't a lot he can do personally for Kazuchika from here, but if a cake could somehow be ordered from Japan to be delivered in Florida, then... Shinsuke types out a group text to all current members of Chaos, not so subtly nudging them to spend some time with Okada over the next week, before putting his phone down and going to get a fork to have a proper taste of the Christmas cake.


	20. Chapter 20

Since the dissolution of Rusev Day, it's rare to see Rusev without Lana backstage, as if Aiden English's actions have only succeeded in bonding them closer togethe than ever. But one day, one sunny, crisp day, Aiden sees him, wandering around with that usual quiet intensity in his eye, heading towards catering, and it seems he doesn't notice him sitting on a stack of crates, away from everyone else, scanning his phone for anything interesting on social media. Aiden's not been used in matches or much of anything since losing decisively to Rusev all of those weeks ago, and he knows it's to do with the lecture he'd received from both Paige and Shane to do with his actions towards Lana, the footage he'd aired, tried to make seem so much suggestive than it had been, his comments about a long _Aiden Night..._

And he accepts it. Knows he deserves it, because he'd truly messed everything up with that one comment, both professionally and personally. Truth is he'd allowed himself to get too close to both of them, too comfortable. Had thought there was something there when there wasn't. Rusev had proven that he'd barely seen him as a friend time and time again, and something had just snapped in Aiden, his jealousy, his possessiveness, getting the best of him. Especially after they lost yet another opportunity at the tag titles. So he's here now, barely getting matches, no one willing to even acknowledge his presence.

But something comes over him when he sees Rusev this day, and he clears his throat. "Good luck next week," he calls out, trying to sound as sincere as possible- because he really does mean it, even if it sounds like the kind of thing someone would say at their absolutely most sarcastic.

Rusev stops. His hands curl into fists at his side and he turns to glower at Aiden, only just spotting him in the shadows cast by the lights coming from the windows overhead. "What did you say to me?" he demands, voice sharp, eyes piercing.

Aiden sighs, resting his head against the wall, accepting whatever may come from this moment. "I said good luck in your match against Nakamura next week." He could fall back on anger, his jealousy, the pain he's felt since being cast aside by everyone, everything that matters most to him, and say something stupid about Rusev needing a Christmas miracle, but he bites it down and simple stares at Rusev, waiting.

Rusev stares at him, swallowing hard. Steps closer and only pauses when he sees how Aiden tenses up, as if expecting an attack. "You really mean that, huh?" he asks, holding his hands up to show he means no harm.

"Yes," Aiden says simply, surprised when Rusev walks up to where he's sitting, a frown on his face. Aiden considers saying something else, but then Rusev pulls himself up onto the trunk next to Aiden's and they sit quietly side by side, staring at the soft glow of the Christmas decorations coming from catering.

"Why'd we get so messed up?" he asks after a few moments of tense silence, running his hands over his face and casting a side-glance towards Aiden.

"I'm not sure," he says softly, honestly. "I guess there were a lot of things working against us..."

"Like your own feelings for me." Rusev smirks just a little when Aiden swallows hard, making a faint strangled noise deep in his throat. "I've been thinking about your password for the last few weeks. That was a weird way to prove that, man. Trying to make it seem like my wife was cheating on me, and everything."

Aiden looks down at his hands. "I know," he mumbles. "It was stupid. I... wasn't in a very good place mentally at the time."

"Because of me," Rusev says, holding a hand up when Aiden tries to say something. "No, wait, I can own that. I wasn't very... kind to you those weeks, blaming you for everything, whether it was your fault or not, and causing tension between all three of us. It was pathetic, I understand that now. Didn't expect you to react like _that_ , but I can kind of see where I put things in motion." Rusev presses his thumbs together and exhales softly. "I guess we all did some very hurtful, mean things to each other." He nudges Aiden. "Some more than others."

Aiden nods, his skin tingling just from that small brush of Rusev's elbow against his side. "I really am sorry. I'd take it all back if I could."

Rusev stares at him, eyes dark, intense. "I'm sorry too, for those weeks where I made you feel unsafe and alone. In hindsight, it wasn't very kind of me. You deserved a better friend."

Aiden's eyes get suspiciously wet and he chokes out a pained kind of laugh. "I never thought I'd hear you say these things," he admits. "I screwed up, really badly, and I deserved to lose everything. Your friendship, my career aspirations. You shouldn't feel obligated to apologize to me, not after everything I've done."

Rusev stares at him, shifting closer to him. "Hey. _Hey._ I have done things too," he says quietly. "Pushed Lana into Ziggler's orbit, got involved with Summer Rae, nearly lost everything that mattered to me because of it, been an awful person to a lot of people over the years. I'm not a very nice guy, it's just the way of the business, as one may say." He closes his eyes. "But many people have forgiven me over the years, Lana especially, and I suppose it would be hypocritical if I did not own up to my own parts in our friendship's failing."

Aiden nods, tense, finding his throat dry as he still fights the tears struggling to drip down his face. "If that's what you need for closure," he says finally, trying to hold it together, give Rusev peace to move past this to be a good US champion when the time comes, having absolutely no doubt that Rusev will defeat Nakamura. "I accept your apology."

He expects Rusev to nod, get up, leave him behind one final time, but minutes tick past and Rusev doesn't move, still twiddling his thumbs, staring ahead blankly. He wants to say something, _do_ something, but there's a kind of quiet calm in the air that he doesn't want to ruin, so he sits and waits for Rusev to do, say something. Anything.

The last thing he expects is Rusev to turn to look at him, smiling a little. "Lana is filming something with the other women, what do you say we go to get something to eat. Talk? Hmm?"

Aiden's eyes are wide and damn those tears do start to slip out of the corner of his eyes now and Rusev's face softens ever so slightly as he reaches out, gruffly brushing them away. "No tears, we're manly men! We act like it!" he says, puffing his chest out in a way that makes Aiden laugh like only Rusev could ever make him laugh even when he felt his most despondent. "So?" he asks carefully once Aiden is calmer. "Lunch?"

"I'd like that," he says with a small smile, waiting until Rusev has slid down from the crates to follow suit, staring at Rusev's back as he follows him into catering. _I think_ I _just received a Christmas miracle of my own,_ he thinks, pleasantly warm and happy as he gets in line behind Rusev, everything slowly slotting back into their proper places as Rusev turns to say something snarky about the day's menu to him.


	21. Chapter 21

The makeover Akira Tozawa had encouraged Brian Kendrick into getting- taming his hair and shaving his beard completely off- brings back the Kendrick of old, appearance wise at least. Defeating Jack Gallagher and Drew Gulak in the street fight and laying some of those ghosts to rest brings him back emotionally, Tozawa thinks as he hugs Brian tightly in the middle of the ring and he mumbles gratitude against his arm before pulling away, a dazed, exhausted look in his deep blue eyes. They have to support each other up the ramp, weary and aching, but feeling all in all successful as they put an end to 2018 in the best way either of them could think of.

Tozawa sits patiently while the trainer looks Brian over just a bit more thoroughly than he normally would, considering the year he's had, all of them relieved when he finds nothing seriously wrong with either of them, and sends them on their way without too much fuss. It's pretty clear Brian is wiped out physically and emotionally though so Tozawa, for once, keeps quiet and peeks over as he drives them back to the hotel, not surprised to find him fast asleep between one red light and the next.

He gently shakes Brian awake when they reach the hotel and helps him inside, into an elevator and up to their room, not too terribly surprised when Brian only stays awake long enough to kick his shoes and jeans off before flopping over and dropping back off into a deep, badly needed sleep. He exhales softly and goes into the bathroom, getting ready for bed as well. After showering and brushing his teeth, he puts some sweatpants on and pads towards the bed, hesitating by Brian's for a moment. He's still fast asleep, but the room is chilly, and he doesn't want Brian's sleep to be uncomfortable or interrupted, it had been clear he hadn't been sleeping well for quite awhile, up at all hours mulling over everything to do with Jack and Drew. Warring with himself, he eventually grips the sheets and eases them out from under his partner before tucking Brian in as best as he can.

He freezes, blinking hard, when Brian shifts under his hands and murmurs, " _Jack,"_ a sad expression crossing his face when he realizes what he's just heard. "It is ok, Brian. You are fine," he says softly. "Just sleep." He's relieved when Brian remains fast asleep, his face calm and smooth when Tozawa moves away and sinks down into his own bed, watching him for awhile until he too falls asleep.

The next morning, they're both groggy and slow, changing into street clothes and preparing for their flights home, Brian to California, Akira to Florida. "You spending the holidays with Apollo again?" Brian wonders, forcing some coffee down in a weak attempt at waking up some more before they have to leave.

"Yes," Akira says. "Are you...?" He hesitates, not sure how to continue with this question. They just defeated the person Brian _might_ have spent the holidays with the night before.

"Nah," he shrugs. "It's alright, I've got a lot of stuff to do now that I've put... _that_ behind me. Don't worry about it, you have a great holiday, alright?" He claps Tozawa on the arm. "You've definitely earned it, after dealing with me and my nonsense the past couple of months."

"I was happy to," Tozawa says, hating the thoughts of him spending the holidays alone and seriously considering inviting Brian to change his flight and come with to Apollo's, but he's pretty sure even if he did, Brian would refuse the invitation, so instead he draws Brian in for another hug and smiles when Brian only sighs and tucks himself into the folds of Akira's arms. "I hope you have a good holiday too, Brian."

Brian nods against his neck. "Yeah man. Hey, really, thanks for everything, huh? There's, like, absolutely no way for me to ever repay you back for everything the last few weeks."

Tozawa grins brightly, stepping back and squeezing Brian's shoulders. "No need to. As I said, I was happy to." He gets a steely, warning look on his face and points at Brian, who blinks, a little startled at this sudden change in his friend's demeanor. "You better keep this look or else." His face relaxes and he drops his hand, grinning cheerfully once more. "It suits you."

Brian laughs a little, brushing his fingers through his hair and shrugging. "Yeah, man. Ok. When you see me again, I'll still look like this. I swear."

They part at the airport, Tozawa waving enthusiastically while Brian lifts his hand in a quiet acknowledgment before walking towards his gate. Once he boards and finds his seat, he sits down heavily and faces the quiet and solitude of the next two weeks with nothing to do until the next 205 Live show. "It's ok, Kendrick," he tells himself. "You have a _lot_ to do to keep yourself busy."

And he does. He has business with his wrestling school, he has contracts and booking plans and a monstrous pile up of paperwork to do with upcoming wrestling events he's got planned in the Los Angeles area, it's a mess and he's almost disgusted with himself for letting it all fall apart to this degree. So as soon as he lands and showers and has a quick bite to eat, he gets right to work, barely aware of how much time is passing as he goes through paper after paper, signing and dating here, making corrections there, calling people who need to be informed of changes that crop up along the way.

He only stops when his eyes get so tired that he can barely see straight, stumbling into bed for a few hours of sleep, or when the phone goes off, Tozawa texting him a couple of times about outrageous flight delays that he's stuck in, Brian cringing when he hears that it's become wide spread for a bunch of the wrestlers heading back home for the holidays. It's a relief for both of them when Akira finally texts that he's safely in Florida finally, sending along a blurry picture of he and Apollo grinning cheerfully into the phone. Brian chuckles a little, shaking his head at what his life's become, before setting back on the pile of paperwork that only seems a little smaller despite all of the time he's been spending on it.

He's downing some more coffee early Friday morning when he hears something at his door, lifting his head with a frown. Deciding he's now started to hallucinate sounds, he turns back to the paperwork whose wording still seems a little too complicated for what he's intending, when he hears it again- followed by a loud knock that startles him, almost causing him to douse his table, quickly putting his drink down. Temper rising, he gets to his feet and walks over to the door, not even bothering to check before unlocking it and forcing it open, almost expecting a salesman or something equally as annoying at this hour. " _What?_ " he hisses, before getting a good look at the person on his porch, all breath forced from his lungs as he gapes at them.

"Well, good morning to you as well, Mr. Kendrick," Jack Gallagher tells him dryly, lip twisting up into a sneer as he takes him in. "I see the makeover didn't last long."

" _Jack_ ," he hisses, reaching up and feeling the facial hair already growing back, how his hair is tangled and all over the place since he'd not bothered to brush it out after his last shower. "I've been _busy_ , what do you _want? Why_ are you _here?_ " His control is slipping, he's starting to feel like the Brian Kendrick pre-win, when everything was so raw and painful, and Jack is just staring at him, cool as can be, as if... as if nothing's changed between them, as if...

But then Jack sighs and his face smooths into an almost melancholy expression. "I suppose it didn't seem fair, the two of us alone on Christmas, Mr. Kendrick."

"Oh, please," Brian snaps. "You mean to tell me your new bestie, Gulak, didn't invite you over?"

"No," Jack says simply. "He did not." This stops Brian short and they just stare at each other, unsure what to say or do until Jack lifts his hand. "I brought scones?" he offers and Brian buries his face in his hands, the memories of _that_ alone too overwhelming for him to face it all.

"Goddammit, Jack," he breathes, turning away from the door and motioning at him. "Come in." He still remembers last year all too well, how Jack had brought him scones once he was released from the hospital and they'd sat together in quiet uncertainty, Brian barely able to eat anything with his face throbbing and swollen, but he'd put the effort in to not offend Jack, chewing carefully on the buttery pastry.

Still remembers the quiet desperation in Jack's voice as he'd rested a hand on Brian's knee and insisted, "Everything will work out, Mr. Kendrick. You'll see." And it had, Brian hadn't required surgery, and he was back a few months later, but then Drew had sent it all spiraling out of control, and now they're here, barely able to look at each other, tense and uncomfortable, and...

"Someone's been busy," Jack says, examining Brian's table keenly. He flushes and scoops up as many papers as he can, dropping them thoughtlessly on the coffee table in the living room, before turning back to find Jack setting the scones out, still comfortable enough in Brian's kitchen to get the plates and silverware out, even gets himself a mug of coffee as if he's never left, and it leaves Brian struggling to breathe, to swallow against the bittersweet emotions welling up within him. "Are you going to sit down?"

Brian shakes his head, running his hands over his face. Almost expects to wake up from this very strange dream to find himself drooling all over his kitchen table, alone and confused. "What _is_ this, Jack? You hate me. I don't understand any of this."

"Have a scone, Brian," he says firmly, waiting until Brian drops down into his chair, blinking when Jack puts a plate down before him, scone resting delicately upon it. Neither move towards their food and Jack stares at Brian while he focuses on his plate, still fighting his emotions, anger and sadness and a choked kind of sensation that if he looks up, he might completely break down. "A year ago almost to the day, I brought you scones after Itami broke your face. Do you remember?"

"Yes," Brian breathes, finally daring to look up. His vision blurs a little when he looks at Jack, but he holds it together for the most part, watching different emotions quickly flash over Jack's face before he schools it back into a stoic mask. "Of course I remember. But things were much different then, Jack."

"Of course they were," he sighs, sitting there primly. "And yet not. Many things _haven't_ changed, Mr. Kendrick."

Brian shakes his head, Jack waiting him out in that annoying manner that he tends towards whenever he wants Brian to figure things out on his own, and dammit, Brian has had his suspicions, but they were all puzzle pieces of things he could never explain to Tozawa, and they barely made sense to himself, but he voices it now, uncertainty fading as he stares into Jack's unfathomable gaze. "Gulak talked a lot... over the last few weeks... about ending my career," he says slowly. " _You_ , you called me cumberground and other ridiculous insults, but one thing I noticed is you never seemed as fixated on retiring me as your _friend_ was. As if you don't want to me to leave. I've been going through _everything_ the last few weeks, Jack. Matches, interviews, trying to find one moment where you hinted towards what you really _wanted_ and all I could find were previous comments about how you respected me and felt we were going full circle since I was mentored by William Regal, and now here I was, mentoring _you_." He presses his hands flat to the table and faces Jack. "Is that what it is, Jack? Despite Drew's feelings, you _respect_ me too much to really want to finish me?"

Jack blinks and smirks. "Something along those lines." He works some of the scone apart with his fingers and pops it into his mouth, lifting his eyebrows at Brian as he wipes his fingers off. "Eat your scone, Mr. Kendrick," he says once he's chewed and swallowed down the morsel.

Brian rolls his eyes and bites almost viciously into the pastry, ignoring the look on Jack's face. They eat quietly, Brian finishing almost at the same time as Jack, the two of them staring at each other once the food is gone. "Well, as nice as this has been," Brian starts, expecting Jack to take his leave now that the food is gone, but his words die away sharply when Jack reaches out and cups Brian's hands, cleaning the crumbs and butter from his fingers with a previously untouched napkin. He swallows, feeling that old, drowning sensation again. "Wha- what are you doing, Jack?" he breathes out.

"Makeover or no, you're still the same old scoundrel with absolutely no proper table manners," Jack says with an almost fond lilt to his voice, looking up at Brian. "Yes, you daft creature, I suppose in a way I do respect you despite everything." He scoffs. " _Tozawa._ Bloody ridiculous, neither of us could _stand_ him." He sighs. "But I suppose... I'm glad you had someone when I couldn't be there for you."

Brian roughly pulls his hands away, laughing in disbelief. "What are you even getting at, Jack? You could've had my back at _any_ time, you didn't _have_ to side with Gulak. I saw your face, you were as confused as I was-"

"And then you attacked me," Jack reminds him coolly, putting the napkin down. "I hadn't made one move towards you, but you made my decision for me when you went after me that evening." Brian's face falls, his eyes wide with confusion, and Jack sighs. "My loyalty would have been with you if you hadn't made that decision that night, Brian. I was your partner long before I was Drew's, after all."

Brian curses and turns away, breathing heavily as he folds in on himself. "I didn't know," he mumbles. "I just... reacted. Kill or be killed, you know? I've been betrayed a lot in this business over the years, and I just... I _assumed..._ " He tenses up when he hears Jack stand up, wondering if perhaps he will leave, or attack, or- Brian shivers when Jack's hand rests between his shoulder blades, the man stopping in front of Brian and kneeling down until they're face to face. He looks up and swallows, finding Jack so close that they're almost nose to nose. "I'm really sorry, Jack."

Jack shakes his head, lips twitching a little. "May I?" he asks and when Brian nods, doubt in his eyes, he ghosts his hands over the smooth portions of Brian's face, lips parting a little. "I liked your beard," he admits. "But this... this... I think it will grow on me." He smirks when Brian stares at him, confused and uncertain about the change of subject.

"Jack..."

He starts brushing Brian's hair out with his fingers, surprised by how smooth and soft it feels as he carefully de-tangles it, the strands curling pleasantly against his palm. "I do respect you, of course," he says casually. "And you haven't been the only one reliving parts of our time together. The WWE Network is convenient like that. It helped to remind me exactly what was lost when Drew set up that Power Point Presentation all of those weeks ago. Do you know what commentary was talking about during the street fight, Mr. Kendrick?"

"No," Brian mumbles, and Jack sighs softly, freeing his fingers from Brian's hair and ghosting them against his brow, along the ridge of his previously broken orbital bone, remembering every bruise and mark that marred his face a year ago. "What did they say?"

"They were talking about how I was the only one who kept in contact with you while you were injured last holiday." Jack's lips twitch, just a little, and he looks away. "We were all each other had for a very long time, Mr. Kendrick. And I am aware you have Tozawa now, and I Drew, but it's not enough. I suppose I would like to still have a scoundrel in my life, even if he _is_ somewhat redeemed and looks a good ten years younger than I."

Brian barks out a laugh, rolling his eyes as he stares up at Jack. "I wouldn't mind continuing to have a gentleman for a friend, I suppose," he agrees. "Even if he is rather roguish for such a label now."

"Your influence, Mr Kendrick," he reminds him and Brian smirks, inhaling sharply when Jack continues to brush his thumbs under his eyes, along his cheeks, down his jaw. "But honestly, who said anything about merely being _friends?_ " he wonders, cupping Brian's face and kissing him so suddenly that all Brian can do is sit there, blinking, until his brain starts to work again, and he gingerly kisses Jack back, amazed when this encourages Jack not to pull away but instead to press in more determinedly, his fingers trailing around to hold the back of Brian's head, swallowing the surprised sound Brian makes when he teasingly licks at Brian's lips.

It comes as a soft exhale when Brian finally opens up to him and Jack eagerly deepens the kiss, massaging soft circles into Brian's neck. They continue to kiss for a few more moments before Jack reluctantly pulls away, resting his forehead against Brian's to gauge his response to it all. Brian blinks dazedly a few times before reaching up, brushing his fingers against his lips. "What was _that_?" he asks, breathless.

Jack presses a kiss to the corner of Brian's eye, right under where he'd been injured at, and sighs. " _That_ is what I should've done a year ago before everything went so very wrong." He searches Brian's face. "What do you say, Mr. Kendrick? Shall we spend this holiday together, make up for lost time?"

Brian ducks his head, cheeks flushing a deep red. "Geez, Jack," he mumbles. "After that kiss, you really think you need to ask?" He eases his hand down Jack's arm, finding his hand and giving it a squeeze. "I think we're gonna need more scones though."

Jack laughs, eyes bright and happier than Brian's seen them in a very, very long time. "Whatever you want, Brian."

As Jack heads into the living room, wanting to look at his future plans for the school, maybe help him to sort things out a bit more, Brian follows along, almost dizzy with disbelief and joy at how things have so suddenly changed. He isn't sure what the new year is going to bring, once Drew is back in the thick of their business, but for now... for now, things feel pretty damn perfect.


	22. Chapter 22

Mickie James sighs, stretching out on the hood of her car and looking out over the hotel grounds, lost in thought. It'd been a strange few weeks, between Alexa getting put in charge of the women's division- however temporarily that may have been for- and seemingly taking Sasha and Bayley's side over hers and Alicia's. It's cold outside, but she's fine with it, not quite willing to go back inside and deal with Alexa complaining about losing her promotion with Baron's firing and the McMahons reclaiming control of both Raw and Smackdown. Normally she would've listened patiently, but something about Alexa's change in attitude- how easily she'd tossed Mickie aside _again-_ rankles at her.

But Alexa is nothing if not tenacious so it's not that much of a surprise when Mickie hears the familiar footsteps approaching the car. "Mickie?" she asks quietly, awkwardly hopping up to sit next to her. "It's cold out here," she murmurs, snuggling into her coat as she stares over at Mickie. "Are... are you still mad at me?"

Mickie blows out a breath, watching it fog out in front of her before disappearing. "No, Alexa, I ain't mad," she says, though everything hints towards her being exactly that.

"I wouldn't have been able to guess it," Alexa murmurs. "You've barely talked to me the last week."

Mickie scoffs and turns to look at her incredulously. "Lex, youchose _them._ What was I supposed to think? We've been down this road before, us falling out and you insulting me and everything. I just thought things were different now, that maybe us workin' together since Mania, and having each other's backs all the way up to Evolution was enough to keep us on the right path, despite the injuries we've both endured 'cause of Rousey. But I guess I was wrong about ya, again."

Alexa gasps. "Mickie, come on! I was just trying to be _professional,_ it had nothing to do with our friendship," she insists. "You know I'm struggling here, it's not easy getting concussed repeatedly and fighting just to keep a foothold in the business I love so much. Not that it mattered, I've lost my position anyway so who knows what's going to happen until I clear these IMPACT scans..."

She sits there, her shoulders slumping, and Mickie closes her eyes, feeling guilty. "Come here," she mumbles, drawing Alexa in and hugging her tightly, petting her hair gently. "You'll be alright. You're strong, and smart. You'll think of something."

"You really think so?" Alexa mumbles and Mickie nods, brushing her hair out of her eyes.

"I know so," she murmurs, lips quirking up into a smile as Alexa looks up at her. They sit for awhile longer before Mickie grimaces, realizing just how numb her legs and ass are from sitting on this frozen car for so long. "C'mon," she says quietly. "Let's go inside. I think we have some hot cocoa in there."

Alexa nods, pulling back to look at Mickie. "Something else too." Mickie stares at her curiously and she grins. "Room service had a couple slices of lemon meringue pie still left." 

"Holy crap," Mickie exclaims. "I love lemon meringue."

Alexa laughs. "I know. Come on." Mickie eagerly slides off of the car and turns to help Alexa down as well, turning to go inside to get warm and start inhaling the pie, when Alexa stops her with a hand on her arm. "I really am sorry, Mick. I was trying to do the right thing and ended up losing everything anyway. Will you forgive me?"

Mickie sighs, staring at her for a moment before shrugging "Tis the season," she says. "Yeah I'll forgive you. Just don't do it again," she teases, winking before turning and walking briskly inside, Alexa close on her heels. Mickie sets to work on the cocoa as soon as she's shrugged out of her coat, assuming that Alexa is getting the pie together, just to turn around with the mugs all ready, marshmellows floating within the brown liquid, when she swallows hard and stares at her. "What are ya doing, Alexa?"

"I thought of another way to make the last couple of weeks up to you too," Alexa offers, glancing up at the green plant that's hanging precariously from the wooden shelf where Alexa is still standing, unable to reach any other surface in the room easily. _Mistletoe._ "What do you think?"

Mickie shakes her head, warmth creeping up her face as she puts the mugs back down and walks closer to Alexa, wary. "You really don't gotta force yourself into doing these things, Alexa. The pie's more than enough of an apology, I promise ya..." But to her surprise, Alexa's face falls ever so slightly and she seems to brace herself before speaking again.

"What if I told you that I wanted this?" she wonders. "That I've wanted it for a really long time? If you don't, fine, I get it, I'm annoying, and bratty, and-" Her words suddenly fade into mumbles when Mickie leans in and presses her lips against Alexa's, her blue eyes widening before she sighs, kissing back eagerly.

Mickie's expression is careful, searching, when she pulls back, but Alexa looks so _calm_ and pleased that there's no way to doubt her words. "A long time, huh?" she muses, brushing stray strands of Alexa's long hair back off of her shoulders.

"Yeah," Alexa breathes out, lost in Mickie's eyes, still tingling pleasantly all the way down to her toes from the kiss.

"Well, Merry Christmas, Lex," Mickie murmurs, tugging her closer and kissing her more thoroughly this time. The cocoa's going to get cold, and Mickie's not even sure if the pie was a reality by now or just Alexa's way of getting her inside to see the mistletoe, and truly, she doesn't really care as Alexa presses against her and makes these soft, breathy noises, wrapping her arms around her neck in a bid to get even closer to her.

 _Correction,_ Mickie thinks, unwilling to break away from this kiss to attempt to verbalize her unfocused, fragmented thoughts. She tangles her fingers into Alexa's hair and sighs softly into her mouth, pleasantly warm and focused where Alexa's body is pressed into hers. _Merry Christmas to_ me...


	23. Chapter 23

It's dark out, edging towards 10 PM when Frankie Kazarian finds himself sitting outside, _listening_ to those sounds that are just inate Los Angeles- the ocean roaring not far away, traffic thrumming in the other direction. He closes his eyes and takes it all in, enjoying the brisk wind on his face, the moon gleaming overhead. He's still sitting there, lost in thought, when he hears the door behind him open and shut quietly, muffled sounds from the Bucks' Christmas party inside coming and going, as footsteps pad towards him. He doesn't move, recognizing the shuffling steps, lips twitching up slightly when Christopher Daniels appears in his peripheral, nudging him lightly as he sits down next to him. "Frankie," he says quietly. "Everything good, man?"

"Yep," he says, digging his heels into the steps he's sprawled out on. "Just needed a minute, I guess." Much as he enjoys hanging out with the Bucks and Scorpio, they're loud at the best of times, and he'd gotten briefly overwhelmed by it all, the talk of future plans, the possibilities hanging before them, just waiting to be grabbed and made the most of. He feels Daniels' eyes on him and smirks, glancing over. "I swear, I'm fine. Just... it's a lot to think about." Daniels nods and Frankie swallows, his throat feeling dry and uncomfortable. "You ever think about how bad this all could end up?"

"Sometimes," Chris says after a moment of thought. "I mean, that's natural, right? But... I don't think it will." He stares over at Frankie. "We've got a group of really intelligent people all working on this thing, and I believe we can build on All In, and really do something special here. But I know what you mean, it was a big step we've all taken, moving on from what was a pretty steady, comforting living. And right now we're all in that annoying 'wait and see' period. But I believe we can do this, man." He claps Frankie on the shoulder and leans closer to him. "And I'm really glad you decided to come along for the ride with me. I would've understood if you decided to stay, though this would be nowhere near as fun without you by my side."

Frankie's smile grows a little as he stares up at the stars dotting the sky overhead. "ROH without Christopher Daniels? Boring," he shrugs. "I guess considering I've now left both TNA and ROH behind, by now you're just stuck with me." He laughs a little but the solemn look on Daniels' face makes him stop, his eyebrows quirking as Daniels hums.

"I'm more than ok with that," he says after a quiet, poignant pause. "Long as you are."

Frankie sighs and casts a quick glance at him. "Wouldn't have it any other way. Seriously. You're my best friend, man."

"Hey, what a coincidence, you're mine too." Chris grins and ducks his head, stretching out more comfortably next to him. "I like to think I still know the business well enough to know a sure thing when I see it, after all of these years. But yeah, everything's a risk, especially these days. At least it won't be _boring_ , huh?"

"That's for sure," Frankie smirks, the two of them content to lay and watch the sky side by side. "First ever AEW tag team champions?"

Daniels barks out a laugh. "Of course! Go for the trifecta, huh?" He bumps his fist with Frankie's and grins as Frankie nods, eyes trailing around the stars for a few more moments before he sits up. "Think we should go back in before they get the wrong idea or something? It's getting chilly out here anyway."

"I guess," he sighs, pushing himself up. "C'mon, old man," he teases, reaching out and gripping Daniels' hand, helping him to his feet.

"Ha-ha," he says drily, pushing Frankie back a few steps, shaking his head when Frankie throws his head back and laughs. "Well, let's go, whippersnapper," he says, throwing an arm around Frankie's shoulders and dragging him up the stairs towards the house. " _Maybe_ try some of Matt's cider."

"Oh boy," Frankie laughs, feeling his toes curling at the mere thought of it, its smell overwhelming everything else around it. "Sure, sure. If you think you're up for it."

Daniels smirks at him, eyes gleaming as they walk inside. He'd go along with anything Chris suggests and they both know it.


	24. Chapter 24

_Home._ Enzo bounces on his sneakers as he breathes New York in, grinning as he takes in the bustling crowds, no one quite looking at him as they rush to get where they're going. He _likes_ California, and Florida was ok, but there's just something about New York- the energy, the vibe. He loves it so damn much that it hurts sometimes to be away from it. The rare time he gets to come home always feels so damn great that it makes him hungry with anticipation for the next time, and the time after that.

He spins in a circle, taking it all in, and nods to himself before marching off determinedly, heading straight for Rockefeller Center, the massive tree lighting the way. He's standing under it, staring up, barely paying attention to all of the people bustling around behind him, when something gives him pause. A familiarity, something shielding him from the worst of the wind. He blinks a few times and tilts his head left, then right, noticing a change in the shadows being cast over him by lights from behind. He chuckles, eyes wide as he straightens up and digs his hands in his jean pockets. "Hey, Cass."

The throat clearing behind him proves him correct and he chuckles, slowly turning to find his former tag partner standing behind him, shoulders slumped as he stares at Enzo with an incredulous look on his face. "How'd you know it was me?"

Enzo laughs, shrugs. "Aw c'mon, big guy. I'd recognize you anywhere." He nudges him. "You cast a long shadow, if ya know what I mean. 'Sides, everything just feels different when you're at my back. I ain't quite forgotten _that_ yet."

Cass' teeth flash, just a bit, before he looks up. "Nice tree this year, huh?"

Enzo nods. "Yep." They shift, stand shoulder to shoulder and stare up at it properly. "So everything good with you?"

Cass nods. "Yeah. I mean, I'm still workin' things out with my doctors and I'm not allowed to drive or anythin', but my ma's been really great about everything. I'm staying with her for awhile until we know for sure what's going on with that seizure." He hesitates. "I saw your tweets. Like, all these people on Twitter kept tagging me in them, it was hard not to see it." He laughs awkwardly. "I, uh, it made me feel really good. To know that despite everything, you still care on some level. I guess."

Enzo grimaces, pokes his toe into the cement. "Yeah. Sorry about the whole knee thing, I was playing too heavily into things and... ya didn't need to see that right outta surgery, I deserved you hatin' me for awhile. I never wanted anythin' bad to happen to ya, ya know. And you gettin' fired, that sucked too, but I figured... I mean, you're you, ya know? I knew you'd be ok." He shakes his head. "Never foresaw the whole seizure thing happenin' though."

"No one did, really," Cass murmurs. "Guess just a thing with us, huh? We both get at least one in the most public of places." They both fall quiet, remembering Enzo's accident, the concussion, how he'd seized on TV. "That was pretty much the scariest moment'a my life seein' ya like that."

"I wasn't scared," Enzo says. He notices the disbelieving expression on Cass' face and chuckles. "I mean, legit, man. I prolly shoulda been but I woke up and saw ya nearby and knew I was gonna be ok." He hesitates, uncertain whether to say what was on his mind considering everything that's gone on between them the last couple of years. "I wish I was with ya during yours so you'd have that reassurance. Though that prolly wouldn't have been as much of a comfort to ya, I'm still pretty much just a big screw up."

Cass winces and looks away. "Honestly, first thought I had when I woke up was I wished you were with me. Ya coulda distracted everyone, convinced 'em I'd be right up at it before we knew it, stuff like that. As it was, everyone was starin', takin' pictures and video." He shakes his head. "It kinda sucked."

Enzo nods. "Yeah. I bet, man." He reaches out and pats Cass on the arm. "Good to see ya up and around though. Knew it wasn't gonna keep you down for long."

Cass smiles and casts another glance at the tree before looking down at Enzo. "Hey, man, ya got plans? I, I mean I know you're probably busy with your own parents and grandma and everything, but... my ma says she misses ya, so maybe... if ya got a minute, could come over, say hi."

Enzo's eyebrows raise up into his hairline. "Ya mean despite how I treated her baby boy, your ma wants to see me?"

Cass smirks. "Eh, man, she saw the shows, how shitty I treated you, so I convinced her it was just for show and that you were busy, didn't even mention all the other drama goin' on. She still loves ya."

"Huh," Enzo mumbles, surprised. "Ya didn't have to do that, man. I haven't been the most complimentary towards ya."

"I'd like to think we let that all go now that we're both out of the WWE," Cass says slowly. "Don't ya think?"

Enzo nods, staring up at him. "And hey, man, this reunion only took us a couple'a years unlike nearly a decade like before."

Cass grins, resting a hand warmly on Enzo's back as they turn to walk towards the subway to take them to Cass' house. "I still remember walking into the Performance Center and seein' you," he says wistfully. "Wasn't even sure if I was hallucinatin' or what, but nope it was definitely Eric from the neighborhood. Still as loud and all over the place as ever."

Enzo laughs, shaking his head. "And there was _Bill,_ " he teases. "As tall and gawky as ever."

Cass rolls his eyes at him and smirks, pushing Enzo in front of him. "Yeah, yeah. Guess we're kinda stuck with each other, huh?"

"Guess so," Enzo muses. "I'm alright with that."

Cass mulls it over, then nods. "Me too."

They smirk at each other, shuffling around while they wait for the next subway to come along. "Merry Christmas, big guy."

"Merry Christmas, Zo."


	25. Chapter 25

A/N: Happy holidays to all! Thanks for reading, these past 25 days writing this has been a lot of fun for me and I hope you all have enjoyed as well.

Tamina Snuka sighs heavily. "I swear," she mumbles, looking at herself in the full-bodied mirror at the fancy clothes store that she'd never heard of before today. "You look _fine_ ," she tells her reflection, even as her brows furrow uncertainly.

"Of course you do!" Lana chirps, coming up and squeezing her. "Who said you don't?" She falters, just a little, when Tamina turns and casts a frowning stare upon her. "Me? No! This isn't why I dragged you here!" she gasps. "I think you look perfect just the way you are, but... Tamina, it's _Christmas_ , I'd like to buy you something gorgeous for the party tonight. Is that wrong?"

"I guess not," she sighs. "Just..."

Lana frowns, biting her lip. "What is it?"

"You don't think I'm good looking, huh?" she asks, shocking the other woman as she examines herself closely in the mirror. "First, you wanted to give me a makeover with the kind of makeup I would never choose for myself, and now all of these expensive, flashy dresses that again, I would never choose for myself. Hard not to notice a pattern there."

Lana's eyes are wide with horror and guilt and Tamina is almost impressed by her strength when she grabs her and stares into her face. "You're gorgeous," she insists. "You could give all of us on Raw, Smackdown _or_ NXT a run for our money! Look at you!" She brushes some of Tamina's curls out of her face and searches her features. "Your eyes, your lips, your skin tone, so many of us would _kill_ for that. A mix of intensity and beauty, and you're still so calm and down to earth until someone pisses you off." She chuckles softly, exhaling shakily. "I'm sorry if I made you think I found you unattractive. It couldn't be further from the truth."

"Well, geez," Tamina mumbles, flushing a little under Lana's scrutiny. "Kinda wish I'd said something sooner."

Lana smiles at her. "I kind of wish you had too, I had no clue i was making you feel this way. It wasn't my intention to alter how you look, just offer a couple of suggestions... But the way you do your makeup is already complimentary to your features, so don't even think twice about it." She curls an arm around Tamina's waist and turns her slowly to look at the racks of clothes before them. "I _would_ like you to pick a dress out though. I won't even say anything, just choose something that you like." Eases closer and whispers, "Something comfortable to dance in."

Tamina exhales. "Alright," she mumbles, wandering through the various dresses before one catches her eye. Once she finds it in her size, she slips into the changing room, Lana stepping away to wait while she looks through some of the nearest racks for something she'd want to wear. She's quickly distracted, however, when the door slowly opens a few minutes later and Tamina comes out, the way the soft skirt billows out around her legs the first thing Lana notices. It's sleeveless and the skirt goes down to her calves, a very pale brown that's only a shade or two away from cream with barely noticable flecks of green and red hidden in the fabric, almost resembling sprigs of holly and other festive plants.

"Wow," Lana breathes, twirling her finger and watching as Tamina turns in a slow circle for her. "That looks incredible." She walks forward and brushes some wrinkles out of the bodice before looking up. "You look amazing."

"Thank you," Tamina says, lips twitching up into a faint smile as Lana's hands sprawl over her waist as she stretches up and presses a soft kiss to the side of Tamina's mouth. "I really do like this dress."

"And I like you in that dress." Lana beams up at her, slipping her hand into Tamina's. "I'll find something to wear really quickly, and then we can go."

Tamina nods, sitting down to wait. The makeup, the dresses, the _party..._ she would have nothing to do with any of it if not for Lana. As she watches Lana's eyes widen as she takes in one beautiful dress after another, her lips parting happily, Tamina sighs, shrugging to herself with a small smile. "It's worth it."


End file.
